


They See Me Rollin', They Hatin'

by chapstickaddict



Series: BB-8's Rockout Playlist for Love and Spacetravel [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Kylo and Rey: from bitter enemies to rivals to just screwing with each other, Multi, My contribution to the 'let's steal Poe Dameron's name' trope, Non-Graphic Violence, Time-Skip Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5753479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chapstickaddict/pseuds/chapstickaddict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a crush on Finn, even intergalactic crime lords.<br/>Rey hates fame and gets her metaphors mixed up.<br/>Kylo is on a voyage of self-discovery, complete with commentary.<br/>Poe would like to know why everyone in the galaxy suddenly knows his name.</p><p>After years of fighting, the First Order has been defeated and the galaxy is slowly correcting itself. Rey, Finn, and Poe struggle to put a name to what it is they’ve been doing for years, but that's difficult when none of them want to talk and risk being the one to ruin it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They See Me Rollin', They Hatin'

For how quickly the Resistance could throw together a base, Rey found it baffling how long it took the Republic to break one down. Stepping aside to let a droid load the latest set of boxes onto the waiting freighter, she figured it wasn’t her place to comment, but it honestly was a mess. The loading bay wasn’t talking to the runners, who weren’t updating the officer’s post, and she didn’t know the last time someone had even checked in with how medical was doing with their break down.

“How many more to go?” she asked the droid, who responded with an uncertain beep. With a sigh she let it get back to its business.

Part of it, she knew, was that officers were spread thin, working overtime to decommission other Resistance sites in the system along with this one. During the war with the First Order, temporary bases had been thrown up in nearly every system to act as checkpoints, supply stations, and command points. None of them had been dismantled, because General Leia was never one to waste a potential opportunity and refused to relinquished a base unless the enemy managed to raze it to the ground. And even then, she had been known to be stubborn about it.

But the war was over and everything needed to come down, starting with the Ghorn, the lone moon orbiting Malastare.

Rey supposed she could try to take command, but it was a fight she wasn’t sure she was up to. She worked under no illusions; she was here in case Kylo Ren, the last remnant of the First Order, decided to make an appearance. Ghorn was the most logical site in the system for an opening salvo, so here she was: alone, bored, and more than a little put out with the universe.

She had tried explaining that Kylo wasn’t a threat to them in his current state, however few had deigned to believe her. Even Luke couldn’t quite bring himself to trust that she knew what she was talking about when it came to Kylo. After a point, it was easier to allay their fears than fight them.

So she settled herself on the lowered loading ramp of the Millennium Falcon and tried to keep occupied. Luke told her she needed to try traditional meditation more often. Rey took his suggestion with a grain of salt; Luke could sit for hours exploring his thoughts and bringing peace to himself, but she couldn’t find the patience to sit still for such a long time. It left her aching and cranky. It felt much better to let her mind work itself out while her body moved. She worked on the guts of the Millennium Falcon, removing, repairing, replacing. She sparred with bots who spat lasers at her lightsaber. She ran herself around the chain of Luke's islands until her lungs and thighs and knees burned.

Returning to civilization made it harder to achieve the inner calm. Working on the Flacon, or any machine, invited conversation from others curious about her skills or projects. Lightsabers unsettled people, for some reason. And while the base on D’Qar had an adequate gym complete with a running track, it turned out she wasn’t the only one who ran to clear her mind.

People stared. A lot. She wasn’t sure she liked that.

It almost hadn’t been worth it to come back. Rey would have thought with the arrival of two powerful Force users to aid them, the Resistance would have leapt into action. She had been bouncing off the walls in anticipation, wanting to get to work after wasting so much time.

“Slow down,” everyone told her instead. “It’s going to take time to plan. We need to do this right the first time.”

She understood—legions were big things, they took time to put in place. Plans needed preparation. But the pace drove her crazy.

Luke offered to take her back to the island, to work harder at her control surrounded by isolation, but Rey couldn’t do that either. She had waited six months. Six months of snatches of conversations with Finn as he struggled with his recovery lightyears away, without her. Of meeting Poe over comm lines and learning to love the sound of his voice before she ever saw he face. Once she finally returned to D’Qar and the main Resistance base, she couldn't bring herself to leave again, even if she wanted to peel her skin off to keep her fingers occupied.

Finn, almost fully recovered and chomping at the bit to be useful, fed off her energy until they were both bouncing off the walls. He didn't run, but would make use of the weight systems and target practice stations while she tried. Together they would work themselves to exhaustion until someone finally got fed up enough to call Poe. As hard as she worked though, the more anxious she became. She suspected Poe suggested a night out just to relieve the tension.

“Let’s grab a drink,” he told them, smiling in a way that Rey was starting to understand meant trouble for her. She never had to worry about things like this when he was just a voice on the other end of the line. “Loosen up, stop terrorizing the support staff, that kind of thing.”

“I’m not doing anything to them!” she defended. “They’re the ones who keep staring.” Poe just looked at her, equal parts expectant and loving, with a side of amusement, as if he knew perfectly well she was brilliant, he was just waiting for her to catch up to that fact. Finn had spent hours telling her about that look, but she never understood until she was on the receiving end.

“It’s not my fault they’re easy to terrorize,” she grumbled. Finn wrapped an arm around her shoulders in solidarity, and in the end she agreed to be dragged out to the local watering hole.

She had expected a seedy hangout in line with Maz’s place, but the place Poe took them to wasn’t so much a cantina as it was a dance hall, with the only seating being the stools at the bar. Poe ordered them both a Naboo Sunset, which turned out to be a heady mix of clear grain alcohol and sugar, and set them loose.

“No sitting,” he told them, grinning as he tossed back a small electric blue cocktail of his own. "Get up and move."

The music was upbeat, with a deep drum keeping time and a female singer hitting notes that reverberated off the ceiling. Finn gripped her elbow, looking just as lost as she felt but excited all the same. His smile was contagious, and she felt her own grow to match him.

Neither of them had much of an idea of what to do, but they swayed in each others orbits anyway. Rey probably would’ve been content to rock back and forth in easy time, but Poe’s soft scoff wouldn’t let them.

He slid up behind Finn, muttering in his ear as he slipped his hands over his hips, and suddenly Rey couldn’t quite remember which way was up. With both of them in front of her, time stopped being a concern.

She would have thought so many people pressed together would exacerbate her desire for solitude, but it was as if they were in a sphere all their own that no one else dared intrude on. Poe walked them through some of the more popular dances, and with him leading Rey was free to let her mind float. Her feet moved in time to the music, her body swaying and her shoulders waving. The world faded around her as her mind transcended.

When Poe called it a night and dragged them into a cab, Rey was astonished to see the sun coming up. She had completely lost track of time. But she didn't mind; her body felt loose and relaxed. The world was in sharp focus, her thoughts flying as if she had woken from a deep sleep, even as Finn nodded off off against her shoulder and Poe leaned against the window.

Later, she explained the experience to Luke, who smiled at her with careworn eyes.

“What did you think meditation was suppose to do?” he asked when she finished.

“Nothing like that!”

Luke was too nice to laugh at her, but his amusement was unmistakable.

She looked for less traditional ways to keep herself in motion after that. Some of the other X-Wings pilots introduced her to the rock-climbing wall in the gym, which felt familiar after years of scaling titanic ships for parts. However she discovered it required more concentration than usual if she wanted to keep a clear headspace while she climbed. Meditation was simpler when she body was occupied, and the Force responded to her new found knowledge with untold enthusiasm. She jumped from levitating pebbles and branches to droids and cargo containers within a week. After ra month, she could hear people speaking half way across the base if she concentrated. Even her dueling bouts with Luke, where she was usually trampled in the span of seconds, came easier after she learned to move. She even succeeded in trapping Luke at saber point one in a while.

She had her own path now. But for all that, she did occasionally try the old ways. So, with nothing else to do, she pressed her back against the Falcon’s cool, steel hydraulics, concentrated on her breathing, and let the world slip away.

_You would get off that backwater shed a lot faster if you just took over and told them what you wanted._

Rey didn’t crack an eye open, but if she did she knew she’d see him, a specter hovering in the corner of her vision and inspecting the space around them. There went any attempt at inner peace.

_Probably._

_Then do it. Who are they to stop you?_

_I don’t want to._ Rey never wanted to lead. Unlike Poe and Finn, she didn’t have a temperament suited for it. She’d rather do everything herself, be it repairing an engine or tending her wounds or plotting the destruction of an enemy. Finn tried explaining to her, more than once, that if she didn't let other people work through what to do in battle or how to fix an engineering flaw, they never had the opportunity to learn. Rey understood that theory but usually got so fed up with their pace that she ended up doing it all herself anyway just to be done in anything resembling a productive timetable. Poe called it part of her drive; Finn called it being a control freak.

_Who would have thought that the last Jedi in the galaxy was such a lazy sod?_

_Luke would be so hurt to hear you talking about him like that._

As usual, the mention of Luke sent Kylo skulking, waves of shame and pride and panic flooding off him in spades. Normally, Rey would have just let him go when he acted like that, but she was bored. Concentrating on him, she heard the sound of a storm blowing, water against window panes, and smelled lightning in the air.

_Where are you?_

_None of your business._

_Still sulking? It’s hardly my fault you had to leave Calaphas in such a hurry. It’s as if being a temperamental baby earns you enemies._

_I would have noticed I was being followed sooner if you had not distracted me._

_If holding a conversation is all it takes to distract you, I think the galaxy is seriously overestimating your skill level._

_Yet, I can still put you in the dirt._

_Says the scar over your face._

_No, says the one down your side._

She supposed she had that coming for mentioning Luke. The old wound running from her armpit, down her rib cage to her hip made Rey’s entire right side throb in phantom pain at Kylo's prodding. During their second encounter, he had managed to scrap his lightsaber past her guard and nearly gut her like a fish. Only Finn’s field medical knowledge and Poe’s frantic flight path had kept her breathing long enough for the more advanced medi-droids and a bacta tank to do their work. Not her finest hour.

The pain pulled her back to herself, and Rey realized she wasn’t alone. Cracking an eye open, she found Finn, mirroring her posture against the opposite lift hydraulics and watching her with unshielded devotion. Even after all these years, he favored a wardrobe of dark, muted colors only offset by his battered jacket. A little older, so much wiser, a few more scars, and able to set Rey’s heart humming every time she laid eyes on him.

“Hi,” he greeted when he had her full attention. Then he smiled. She didn’t bother standing, just launched herself forward and slid across the steel on her knees until she fell into him. Steadying herself with a hand against the metal behind Finn, she dropped a kiss onto his lips. Part of her cringed to do this in public, but she couldn't resist. He wrapped his own arms around her, helping take some of her weight against him.

"Hi, yourself." she muttered against his mouth. In the blaze of a sun, a shadow didn't stand a chance. Kyo slinked back to whatever it was he was doing, and Rey paid him no mind. She pressed her forehead against Finn's and reveled in the feel of him, real and in front of her.

“Done with Setta already?”

“Yeah,” Finn told her, butting his nose against her cheek. “You’d be surprised how fast it goes when there’s someone actually in charge.”

He looked whole. So much more than he had as the half-brave ex-stromtrooper she had run down years ago, fighting for every scrap of self he could preserve. What’s more, working with the Resistance gave Finn the chance to grow and shape himself into something truly spectacular. As a solider, a man given a mission he could believe in, he thrived. Once he had been trusted with command, all the potential and determination growing under his skin finally bloomed. He proved himself more times than she could count, and her pride for him knew no bounds.

_Write him a sonnet. I’m sure it would thrill me._

_How’s your lightsaber doing?_

That got her unceremoniously booted from Kylo’s thoughts without further ado. The cracked crystal in his lightsaber caused more than a few problems for him, and most of the time she got to bear glorious witness to the fallout. She knew it was a bit of a low blow, but Kylo should have learned long ago to keep his comments about Finn or Poe to himself.

“You should go take charge, then,” Rey suggested, letting Finn overtake her entire attention. She made no effort to move off him and Finn laughed into her hair, pulling her closer.

“Yeah, I’ll work on that.”

“Or you could stay here with me. Just a suggestion."

“Gotta say, that sounds nice too.” For a moment his grip was tighter than gravity. “But if we wanna leave this planet today, we should probably think about kicking everyone’s butts in gear."

Rey grumbled, clinging to him for a moment longer. She knew he was right, but it still stung to unravel from him and stand. It had been eons since she had been able to simply enjoy his presence without something demanding their attention, what with the galaxy trying to righten itself under their watch.

“Hey, boss!” Finn’s head came up, and Rey groaned as their little bubble burst. At the end of the Falcon’s loading dock stood Parnaj, one of Finn’s regular squadron members, grinning at them.

“Lita wanted me to tell you that she’s about to shoot the entire communications department if you don’t get over there and sort out who’s suppose to be doing what."

“Thanks, Parnaj. We’re coming.”

Parnaj’s grin didn’t diminish. “No problem, boss.”

Rey could feel Finn’s joy coursing through his skin and saw it clear on his face. For that alone, she liked Parnaj and the rest of Finn’s regulars. For all Finn thrived within the order and structure of military life, he struggled with the titles that life bestowed on him. He once confessed that very time he heard “Captain Finn” out of someone’s mouth, he only thought of chrome armor and a monotone voice. He cringed at the title more often than not. His squadron had taken care of it by replacing it with less formal sounding ones. As distressing as it was to the more traditional brass to hear a Captain referred to as ‘chief’, ‘prez’ or the the ever common ‘boss’, it made Finn comfortable. That was all Rey cared about.

She still didn’t like Parnaj grinning at her like that. The man didn’t know propriety if it punched him in the face, and never passed up the opportunity to make an inconvenient appearance.

Once they both stood, and Finn dropped a last gentle kiss on her cheek.

“This, then home,” he promised. Rey planned to hold him to that.

*

The sound of water running down the drain woke up her. Picking her head up from Finn’s chest, she saw a crumpled pile of grease-stained, orange fabric on the floor and didn’t try to stop the relieved smile from breaking across her face.

She thought about waking Finn up, but exhaustion made him near unmovable in sleep. Sliding out from his grip, Rey picked up one of the shirts that had been cast aside a few hours ago, shrugged it over her head, and headed for the private fresher attached to their room. In the corner, BB-8 hummed gently as the red status light on its dash flashed in time with its charger. She ran her knuckle over the droid’s domed head and got a soft beep for her efforts.

“Glad you’re both back safe,” she said, smiling at the grateful purr emitted in return.

The fresher door was cracked open enough to let the light and steam filter out, creating dancing shadows on the wall. D'Qar was bountiful with water, and the freshers at the base all ran off rudimentary plumbing, something much cheaper to install and easier to maintain than the complex sonic systems popular in the Core Systems. To Rey it felt divine. When she slipped inside, she was hit with a wave of hot, damp steam. Her reflection warped in the dripping condensate on the mirror but Poe, razor in hand and face half hidden in white foam, smiled at her wide and welcoming through it anyway. Stripped down to nothing but a towel around his waist and his own skin, she enjoyed the play of slick, damp muscles across his arms, shoulders, and back as he worked.

“Hey you,” he whispered, tilting his face to the side as he scrapped the razor down his cheek. In the insane chaos of the final few cycles, things like personal care flew out the window. She couldn’t remember the last time she took a shower for longer than it took to scrub the latest batch of sweat or grease of her, and her hair was beginning to grow to unmanageable lengths. Both Finn and Poe were sporting healthy doses of scruff.

Finn didn’t seem to mind, but Rey knew it drove Poe to distraction. He had been looking for the first opportunity to take his off, even if it meant in the middle of the night and having just returned from the sky. Part of Rey would lament not being able to revel in the combination hardware, electricity, and sweat left on his skin, but Poe would never get to sleep with the smell still on him. He struggled to be around them if Rey or Finn skipped a shower after a day at the gym and insisted soap be one of the supplies they always had on hand.

Poe's fastidious habits were just as puzzling to her as her desire for obscurity was to him. Then again, she thought it odd that Finn could talk for hours on end with strangers and never feel exhausted by it. They both had strange little habits she couldn't completely reconcile, but the affectionate warmth that followed never let her stay irritated for long.

“Hey,” she muttered back. She waited until he lowered the razor to move, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head in the hollow between his shoulder blades. He and Finn were both perfectly sized to rest against. The wet heat made her flush, but she didn’t mind because with her ear pressed to his skin she could hear his heartbeat.

“You just get back?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, starting on the delicate skin of his throat now that she had settled. “All Senators delivered safe and sound to their conference. No disasters, no raids, no traps. Probably one of the most boring missions I’ve been on in years.”

“Good,” she muttered. She disliked when Poe got sent out without them. They weren’t all needed for a simple escort mission though, and she accepted that sometimes the picture was bigger than just her and them.

She was being ridiculous. Poe had only been gone two weeks. But whenever he left without them it felt like she was missing the sky itself and was consigned to wander lost through an upside down world that made no sense.

_I thought they were suns. Is it too much to ask of you to keep your metaphors straight?_

_That's Finn. Poe's different._

_Really? I had not noticed._

“You two get the Ghorn base broken down alright?” Poe asked. She tilted her face up to watch him over the crest of his shoulder. His hair, always so fast to grow, curled tight and thick in the residual humidity. She thought about winding her fingers through it, but that would mean letting go of him. She’d wait until they got back into bed first. And in the morning, Finn would be ecstatic, waking up to discover their missing third back with them. “Did I miss anything new?"

“Finn decided he doesn’t like the smell of eggs,” she recalled after an interesting attempt at a local breakfast dish yesterday morning. Poe huffed out a soft laugh; he loved encouraging their attempts to try new things, even if the results were less than successful.

“Luke left last week,” she continued once his diaphragm stopped flexing, letting the conversation turn serious. “Said something about needing to re-center himself.”

“Think you'll need to follow him?” His tone was even, even if she could feel him go tense under her.

“No,” she responded, tightening her grip on his waist. Poe rarely needed reassurance, but she was comfortable enough with him now to give it without prompting. She know where her centers were. Though she seemed to be the only one, if what she felt Luke and Kylo struggling with were any indication. Maybe it was a Skywalker trait to make everything more complicated than it needed to be.

Poe toweled away the stray bits of shaving cream the razor hadn’t taken off, turned in her arms, and settled back against the sink counter, letting her lean into his chest instead. Taking her face in his hands, he just held her for a moment. It was one of her favorite things about him, how he could simply love them both for what they wanted to give. Every time he came back, even if it had only been an hour, he looked at them as if the galaxy began and ended with the two of them.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he told her, giving her a sweet, easy kiss. Even through the layer of fresh soap and water, the smell of the atmosphere never really left him. Rey loved it—could lose herself in him for days. But it was the middle of the night and as happy as she was to have Poe back, she wanted sleep.

She leaned back away from the sink, taking Poe with her. He was easy to maneuver, pliant and relaxed between his post mission adrenaline crash and the shower. He laughed through pressed together lips as he shuffled along with her. Getting to the bed, Rey pivoted and dropped Poe into her old spot against Finn. The sheets on the far side of the mattress were cold, but she slipped under them anyway. Their shared heat would take care of her.

She returned to using Finn’s shoulder as a pillow, and remembered her earlier thought. Her fingers trailed up, over Finn’s other shoulder, across Poe’s collarbone, and eventually made their way into his damp curls. He flashed her a grin, but didn’t resist her tugging until he rested on Finn’s chest as well, his breath mingling with hers.

She loved being right; Finn’s delight at waking up to a surprise Poe was a great start to her day.

*

Rey glared at the shipping manifest. The form mocked her, the signature blinking unobtrusively.

"You don't need my name," she argued, holding the data pad out back to the transporter.

Rey knew she was being obtuse, but she harbored no desire to become a household name. Rumors of a new Jedi (or whatever the hell she decided she was) were making their way throughout the galaxy, which only made her more reluctant to make herself known. She would have thought meeting legendary heroes would have sparked an ambition to see her name written from horizon to horizon in the stars, but all it had done was further ingrain a wish for obscurity. She could move freely and explore the galaxy unencumbered by legacies. She didn't want to be tied down the moment someone recognized her face or name.

“I need a signature, or I ain't loading it," the gruff worker told her. Rey rolled her eyes and glanced around for anyone, _anyone_ ,who could offer up their own name with some level of credibility. But the base was on bare bones crew, and she had made her desire for peace and quiet a little too well known. She was on her own.

She resisted making a whining sound in the back of her throat. She shouldn’t even be on base, but Major Nehu had been charged with overseeing the break down, and the duty roster assigned Poe to his flight crew. Not many people could make Poe’s face lock up and his eyes squint in a way that meant he was unhappy, but something about Major Nehu brought it out in him every time. Rey had decided to follow Poe that morning to make sure he didn’t do something he’d regret later. The last time they had been in a room together unsupervised the Major left with a black eye and Poe with a stern dress down from the General that kept him embarrassed and silent for the next week.

She should have talked Finn into coming. He had been assigned to the armory that day, restocking inventory and helping break down the older blasters. The Republic was keen on finding out exactly how many weapons the Resistance had managed to accrue during their run, and they weren’t above spying to get information the General was reluctant to give. Finn had a good eye for spotting folks who found themselves in places they weren’t suppose to be, which worked to everyone’s advantage.

Except Rey’s. Poe was running final flight checks on the fleet of freighters with BB-8, and the last of their cargo needed to be loaded if they wanted to get out before Major Nehu started getting ideas of hitching a ride back to D’Qar with them.

Why was everyone so enamored with paperwork, anyway?

_Are you always that snippy with poor, innocent folks who are just trying to do their jobs?_

_Don’t for one moment think I don’t know what you did to people who disappointed you._ Finn sometimes told them stories when the nights dragged on and they stole warmth from each other’s bodies. His recounts of Kylo’s infamous temper would have been ridiculous if Rey didn’t have the memory of each one to draw on at a moment’s will.

_You have to admit, my way would solve your little problem there pretty quickly._

_I can’t believe that I still have to tell you murder isn’t the answer to every problem in the universe._

_Who said anything about murder? Ben Solo was weighed down with a glorious legacy he never asked for. I have no such problem._

_What'd you call a villainous reputation and the enmity of most of the galaxy?_

_The price of efficiency._

_Go back to drinking yourself under a table, would you? I’m busy._

She got nothing from him after that. She guessed she wasn’t suppose to know about about that new habit.

It did give her an idea, though.

*

"Dameron!" Poe glanced up as Singah, quartermaster for the D’Qar base, waved him down across the air field. His seat high up in the cockpit of the transport freighter gave him a clear line of sight for the tarmac, as well as the look of annoyance on the man’s face.

BB-8 beeped worriedly from its place behind him, swiveling to watch Singah approach.

“I didn’t do anything,” Poe muttered to the droid, climbing out of his seat. BB-8 disengaged from the freighter’s system and followed at his heels. Ever since the final battle with the First Order, the little droid had been reluctant to let him out unsupervised. He probably would have found it more amusing if it wasn’t painfully clear he was having similar issues letting Rey and Finn out of his sight.

"Yeah?" he asked once his feet hit the ground in front of the quartermaster.

"If you're gonna sign for shipments, you gotta actually put down your name," Singah told him, waving a flimsy at him.

"I do," Poe muttered, taking the form with the caution of a loaded blaster. Sure enough, he saw "Dameron" in the 'Signed For By’ box on a shipment he couldn't remember loading. The squiggled "X" on the signature line gave him enough of a clue, though.

Rey’s reclusive habits when it came to sharing information about herself was both endlessly endearing and unbelievably frustrating. He supposed it made sense. People became living legends after the fall of the Death Star and the rise of the New Republic. Poe couldn’t remember a time in his life where he didn’t know the names Skywalker, Organa, or Solo, and he wasn’t alone in that. Rey held fast to her desire for anonymity, no matter how many times she and Poe argued the extremes she took to insure it.

"Sorry about that," he told Singah. He took the man’s offered pen and resigned next to Rey's mark. "Won't happen again."

Singah's expression clearly told him he believed Hutts would fly first.

*

“How are you this good at gambling?” Poe demanded, watching in awe as Finn swept up the pot again.

Finn grinned while he counted out his new stack of trinkets on the thin rug beside him. Among his winnings were Poe’s inaugural flight pin, Rey’s hair brush, and the spare screws from BB-8’s last tune up. A pretty good haul, if he said so himself.

“Want to stop?” he offered, collecting their cards. Poe glared at him.

“Never,” he responded and dropped an old flight manual into the pot. Rey smirked and threw in a spoon he suspected she had stolen from the mess hall. She sat with her back against the bed frame, wrapped up in Poe’s spare shirt, a pair of pants Finn meant to hem down to his size when he got the chance, and a thick, beige, and wool blanket. Finn was surprised he could see her at all under the layers. Poe sat beside her on the rug, close enough to bump his knee against her pile when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. Finn filled out the circle, lying on his stomach with a pillow braced against his chest.

Occasionally, Finn shifted and caught a whiff of Poe’s woodsy shampoo or the faint lemon scented lotion General Leia gave Rey. It played havoc with his concentration, but he didn’t mind. It was as far away from regulation soap and regulation cleaning chemicals and regulation air filters as he could get.

Finn raised them a piece of honey candy he had picked up from the communications department and dealt their next hand, counting to himself as he went.

They circled through another hand. BB-8, happy to have them all in the same room and away from troublesome things like lightsabers and blasters, hummed softly while it bumped against Finn’s shoulder. While he was glad the little droid was happy to see him, the distraction made him lose focus when he untangled his shirt (maybe Poe's shirt, he couldn't tell them apart anymore) from where it snagged on BB-8's antenna. When the cards came down again, Rey cackled with delight and collected her winnings. Finn stared down at her hand. Huh. That didn’t make sense...

“What’s up?” Poe asked, sweeping in their cards between his fingers. He reached over and poked at the space between Finn’s eyes. “You’ve got something going on up there. You always go wrinkly and thoughtful when you’re thinking.”

“I do not."

“You really do,” Poe grinned. "Doesn't he?" he asked Rey. She didn't reply but the twist in her lips was all the confirmation Finn needed that she thought Poe was right.

“It’s nothing,” he told them. “I just didn’t expect Rey to win with her hand." She blinked at him as Poe's cheeky grin turned thoughtful.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, the odds were that I had a winning hand over her. I think I lost track of the hand, though.” He flicked BB-8's casing with a fingernail. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Poe stared at him like Finn had just said there were wampas running loose on the base. Then, he deliberately pointed down his own cards face down on the floor. He had folded early in the round and hadn't reshuffled them back into the deck yet.

“Finn,” he asked in an odd tone. “What kind of hand do you think I have?”

That was a silly question. Had he not been paying attention? Finn figured that would explain why Poe was so bad at it. “Probability's on nothing higher than six. I think. Did you do something?" he demanded, turning to Rey. She really shouldn't have won that hand.

Poe groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Okay,” he said. "I feel the need to tell you that counting cards, while not illegal, will probably get you stabbed in just about any game where you're not fleecing me for trinkets."

"What's counting cards?" Finn asked.

“What you’re doing."

“You’re doing it in your head?” Rey exclaimed. “All the card counters in Jakku needed little machines in their shoes to do it that way."

“I’m not doing anything!”

“You're calculating the odds of each hand against the dealer's deck to figure out who has the best hand. That's counting cards, and never do it if you play with the rest of the Corps. I'll never find your body if you do."

"Oh. Wait, what? That's not part of the game?!"

“No, that’s not part of the game,” Poe told him patiently.

"Oh. I just thought..." Finn trailed off as his mouth got ahead of his thoughts again. If he didn't calculate the odds, that meant the whole game was based on luck. If it was based on luck there was no use for it. Why play if there isn't a skill to be learned from the whole thing? Rey pressed her lips together beside him, but he could hear her laughing anyway.

"And here I thought you were just bad at it, Poe," she muttered, fingers picking at the corner of the blanket.

“Bad at what? Are you counting, too?"

“No, but I want to know how you’re doing it. It seems much simpler than my way,” Rey said, turning to Finn. "Less likely to get caught, at least."

Poe groaned and dropped his forehead into his hands.

“I thought the deck felt lighter,” he sighed. Reaching out with one hand, he gently grasped Rey wrist, turned it over, and extracted a few loose cards from the inside of her loose-fitting sleeve. Ooh! Finn guessed that made sense, even if he was a little hurt. He thought they were playing by regular rules, not the down and dirty way.

"You were cheating!?" he demanded.

"So were you."

"No I—Poe, tell her I wasn't cheating!"

"You were. I think the only thing saving you is that you didn't think you were cheating. You," he said, pointing at Rey. "Definitely knew better."

"Everyone on Jakku did it. I was just quicker about it than they were. I played when rations were low and I couldn't scavenge anything."

“Huh.” Rey’s survival skills never ceased to amaze Finn. He would have been long dead by her age had their positions been reversed. "I didn’t even see you do it.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Rey told him with a smile. That could be a convenient skill to know.

“Show me?” he asked, clutching his pillow and rolling over to her side.

Rey was delighted to do just that. A few minutes into her impromptu lesson, Poe gave up on them both and plucked a maintenance guide out of Finn’s pile of hard-won treasures.

“How’d I end up with a pair of cheats?” he despaired to BB-8, who answered with a cheerful whirling noise.

*

Poe tried explaining a couple different times why estimating the odds—"Card counting, Finn. It's called card counting and it's gonna get you shot."—was frowned upon, but Finn didn't really believe him. It was too easy! Besides, Poe sometimes grew concerned about things that weren't really anything, like balanced meals and normal sleep cycles and regular medical check ups. Finn chalked it up to Poe thinking they should know some things about normal life, in an theoretical sense, and let it go.

Then thoughts of downtime flew out the window the moment the General realized blasters marked for decommissioning had come up for sale on the black market. She summoned Finn to her, a grim, fierce look on her face.

“Get me a name, Finn,” she told him at the end of the briefing. “I need to know who broke my trust."

When Captain Phasma had given orders, Finn had obeyed because he feared the consequences of failure and her mercilessness when meting out punishment. When General Leia issued orders, Finn’s compulsions to obey were the loyalty she had fostered in him over the years and a desire to see disappointment eased from her face. It was more than enough, and he knew without a doubt he’d bring her back a name. Over the course of the war, she had relied on him more as his skills grew. He wanted to show he had earned her trust.

Their timetable had his team leaving later that day, giving Finn some time to say goodbye. He found Poe and Rey in the back of the X-Wing hanger, tinkering with a salvaged TIE fighter. The day was mild yet Rey had still managed to talk Poe out of his jumpsuit. She sported it with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and open at the collar. It left Poe in an undershirt and standard-issue pants, both which probably weren’t grease stained when he started. For all his desire to stay tidy otherwise, Poe was by far one of the messiest mechanics Finn had ever encountered, never walking away from a project without ruining countless rags, most of his clothes, and earning a few cuts and scraps along the way. It was a quirky paradox Poe assured him was normal in a life without constant regulations and rigid control.

“I know that face,” Rey muttered, dropping down from her perch atop the cracked engine. “Leaving already?”

“Yeah. The General needs me.” He knew they would both understand. All of them had left at one point or another for the same reason.

Rey said nothing else, just curled her rough fingers around his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him deep. Poe’s jumpsuit was big enough on her that a little tugging slipped the collar down her shoulder. Warmth settled behind him as confident hands slipped under his jacket's hem.

“We really gonna do this here?” Poe asked, though his incredulousness didn’t stop him from pressing his lips into Finn’s neck above Rey’s fingers.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it earlier,” Rey muttered. Stepping back, she hauled them into the TIE fighter and the relative privacy it offered. The pilot and gunner seats were long gone, probably ejected when the original owners crashed, and a metal sheet had been riveted in its place to patch the exit hole. All that surrounded them were circuits, tinted glass, and dormant weaponry.

Finn could never keep track of both of them at the same time when they tag teamed him. His jacket ended up hung on a stray toggle, and the rest of their clothes offered padding against the steel floor. Somewhere along the way they switched places, Poe dropping kiss after kiss across his face and neck while Rey explored the rest of his body. Her teeth nipped down his spine and her fingers lovingly traced the thick scar tissue that ran from his hip to his shoulder blades. Rey didn't offer quarter in her passion, throwing everything she felt into her kissing. She always left them both littered with light bruises and marks, and sharp memories of her embrace. Poe worked slower, teasing and laughing, edging Finn's passions higher until he couldn't think straight.

Without Finn, Poe and Rey moved at different paces and clashed over it. Sometimes watching that clash, Finn felt like he was watching a hurricane take on an ocean, a heady, beautiful battle that left him breathless and trying to hang on. But all too often, they simply fell out of sync with each other without Finn there to take it all. He had never thought he could endure as much as he did, but his love for them brought out aspects of himself he had never knew existed. He met their desires with his own, as meager as they seemed by comparison, and tried to show them just how crazy they drove him.

Finn lost himself between the two of them, flowing with Rey’s push and Poe’s pull. He felt hot and hazy, and heard laughter and encouragement whispered into his ear. The slick skin under his fingers was too tempting not to taste. Tension ran like lightening throughout his body as hands explored places he had never thought he’d let someone else touch.

He cried out as he came, but lips fell onto his and Rey swallowed down his voice. She was quieter, letting only a few sobs leak through before she shuddered against him. At the last moment, her hand flew out and Poe’s laughter heightened to a sharp, strangled gasp around her fingers.

He slowly came back to himself, laid out on his side with Rey in front of him, propped up on her elbow. Her fingernails traced down his shoulder and side, tickling at Poe’s wrist where he draped his arm over Finn’s shoulder. He could feel the pilot’s soft pants on his spine as Poe rested his forehead against his neck. Their legs tangled together, making it impossible to think about moving.

“Don’t be gone too long,” Rey ordered, her voice barely audible even in their comfortable silence.

“Or do anything stupid,” Poe added. His arm around Finn tightened, pulling him (and by extension Rey) closer to his chest.

“Promise I won’t,” Finn mumbled, fighting against the pull of sleep. He had no idea how he managed to survive before meeting these two.

*

He didn’t fall asleep, because he had a mission to complete. It took longer than necessary to untangle himself, but in the end he had to leave.

With the memory of them both pressed into his skin, Finn and his team flew across the galaxy. Tracking down their leak would be hard in the core planets, but the Outer Rim was so unorganized that crime was a second way of life there. All they needed was a solid led, and some patience.

Which was what Finn thought they were onto, when it all went to hell.

Pirates were a fact of life. They jumped lone ships without warning, raided cargo, and fled into the deep reaches of space without a second thought. Finn had thought that, since they carried nothing worth the effort, that they would be able to avoid tangling with them any more than necessary. However, halfway through their journey, he was proven wrong.

“It’s a slaver ship, chief,” Lita confirmed over the intercom system as Parnaj handed him a blaster. Finn’s mouth settled into a thin line as he heard scraping against their hull. It sounded like the pirates were trying to cut their way in.

“Don’t bother stunning them,” he ordered. Parnaj grinned and Karvos, Finn’s youngest teammate, nodded one.

“Lita! Be ready to jump to hyperspace on my mark,” he called.

“Got it, boss.”

Finn braced his shoulder against the hull and held his breath as their ship was breached. It was thankfully a quick shoot out with the pirates not expecting much of a fight and Finn in a nasty mood. He put down two himself while Parnaj worked his way through the others, and Karvos got in his own shot on the last invader before Finn dragged them all back into the depths of their own ship. He slammed the bey door shut to seal off the hole in their hull and yelled for Lita to go.

There was a heavy tug at the back of their ship, and Finn grinned at the thought of the pirate’s ship ripping in half, one side stuck drifting while the other flew through hyperspace stuck to them.

“Damnit boss, we’ve got a problem,” Parnaj hissed. Finn turned and cursed when he saw Karvos on his knees, nursing his side.

“It’s fine, I just need a minute,” the kid gasped. Finn shushed him and helped Parnaj drag him back to the front of the ship.

“You took a blaster to the side, you’re gonna need more than a minute,” Parnaj explained, easing Karvos down on one of the bunker beds.

Finn took a step back and reevaluated. Karvos had been their way into the black market, but there was no way Finn expected him to function with a wound like that.

“I can do it, boss,” Karvos told him weakly, flat on his back while Parnaj patched up. Finn’s heart twisted for him. Karvos had joined the Resistance in its final year, desperately wanting a chance to prove himself. He had grown up with a family familiar with crime and scandal, and while that made his connections optimal, Finn knew he strove to define himself beyond their legacy. It was redemption for sins that weren’t his to bear.

“Rest and heal,” Finn ordered the kid. “We’ll work it out.”

Internally, he knew didn’t have a lot of options. His final working plan was a simple swap, with him taking Karvos’ place. Foreseeably, Lita objected.

“It’s too dangerous, chief,” she snapped as Finn shrugged his jacket over his blaster holster. “You don’t know any of these people. They’ll smell an outsider in a heartbeat. And then you’ll be dead.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Just make sure Karvos rests and Parnaj doesn’t find anything too explosive to keep himself occupied.” Finn didn’t want a repeat of when Parnaj decided to take apart a First Order flame thrower for fun.

Lita huffed her disapproval, her golden eyes narrowing down to slits as she glared at him.

“Don’t make me tell your guy and gal that you got gutted doing something stupid.”

“Never,” Finn reassured her.

Before the sedatives kicked in, Karvos told him about a local card game with players he suspected had connection to the name Finn was after. That was he starting point.

After flashing an obscene amount of credits to the bouncer (courtesy of the Resistance’s covert division’s budget), he had no problems joining the table. Three other players were already sat in, each taking their own turns dealing rather than letting it be controlled by the house. Interesting approach. Finn figured it meant that at least one of them was a heavy enough hitter to keep the establishment’s owner in line even when they were getting cut out of such a lucrative game. One of the players objected to Finn’s inclusion into the game, but the other two were curious enough about him to let him wonder into the dragon’s dean. Finn supposed they didn’t get much fresh blood in their game, and were looking for some new entertainment.

The trouble started a few hands later.

“Quiet one, ain’t ya,” The first player, Itsy, snarked while he jostled Finn's shoulder, dangerously close to bumping against his concealed blaster. With each hand, his disdain at Finn’s presence in the game grew, as did his aggression.

“Just don’t have much to say, is all,” Finn muttered. He had hoped to garner a little information before making a play for what he wanted, but his tablemates besides Itsy were as tightlipped as trees.

“Yeah, well, what brings ya to this backwater shithole?”

“I’m in transport,” Finn offered after a second’s thought. It was an easy cover to sustain, and would explain why he had a good deal of credits on hand and no roots in the local community. "Just stopping by for the night.” He didn’t want their attention on him anymore than it had to be.

It didn’t seem to be in the cards. After playing countless games with a shameless Rey, Finn knew how to spot someone cheating. Itsy didn’t even have the decency to do it well. For kreff sake, Finn watched him palm the top card in plain view. Then he decided to deal Finn a completely atrocious hand. Even Finn knew not to completely tank someone’s hand if he wanted the game to keep bringing in money.

It also threw off his math when the guy did it, which gave him a headache he didn’t need right now.

“Any time you feel like knocking that off, I’d appreciate it,” Finn snapped after having to pass on his third hand.

His comment earned him a quick flurry of movement and a blaster pointed at his eye.

“Hey how, there’s no need for that,” he started, throwing his hands up in the universal gesture of ‘don’t shoot me’. He hoped Poe never found out about this; he’d never hear the end of it.

“No one,” Itsy growled. “Accuses me of cheating in my own damn place!”

“I wasn’t doing anything like that,” Finn tried to explain, even though he had been doing exactly that.

“Itsy, this ain’t your place,” the second player, Melo, snapped, though he quelled when he received a warning glare. No shelter there.

“Leave the credits and get out,” Itsy snapped, turning back to Finn. He set his jaw and glared; he had seen the expression on Rey’s face enough to know it was terrifying.

“Ain’t gonna happen.” He had a damn mission to accomplish. He wouldn’t go back to the General empty-handed. If he hadn’t gotten shot yet, he had a chance. The longer folks talked about shooting, the less likely they were to pull the trigger. Finn would play the odds.

Itsy looked to be calculating his own odds when the last player, and the one Finn suspected was the real heavy hitter of the table, started chuckling. Finn hadn’t gotten his name yet, but the way he held himself, and the way people froze at his voice, said more than enough.

"You got burned, Itsy,” he said. “Get over it. It’s your own damn fault for trying to cheat a card sharp."

Finn couldn't quite hide his wince, and the man’s chuckle turned into a full-bellied laugh. “Yeah, kid, I noticed. You got a tell when you’re counting. Put the damn blaster away, Itsy. I ain’t got time for this.”

"Shut your trap, Alvis,” Isty snapped, then screamed when Alvis reached out faster than lightening and wrapped his hand over Isty’s on the blaster. The resounding crack resonated around the bar, as did Itsy’s hollering. It didn’t go on for long, as Alvis dragged the man towards him. Another crack came, even louder, and Itsy dropped to the floor, eyes vacant and neck at an unnatural angle. The man’s blaster dropped onto the table, and Finn’s instincts screamed to grab it before someone else could.

“I’ll take this. Payment for the slight,” he said forcing casualness into his voice and not letting himself think about the corpse at his feet. If he focused on that he’d start freaking out and lose his chance. He got a grip on the handle just before Melo snapped forward for it. Looking it over, he wasn’t surprised to find it was one of the decommissioned blasters from the Resistance. Across the table, consideration crossed Alvis’ face. He looked Finn up and down with a thoughtful, interested expression. Finn withstood the scrutiny without blinking; Alvis’s gaze was nothing compared to Phasma’s steely, unwavering scrutiny.

“I like a man with an opportunist streak in ‘em,” Alvis finally said, more amused than anything. "What's your name, kid?"

"Finn.” He thought about giving a fake name, but he hadn’t had the time to establish any aliases, and Alvis seemed like a man who could smell an outright lie a mile away. Finn learned long ago that the best lies had a seed of truth in them.

“Finn. Finn. Melo,” Alvis abruptly called, turning sharp eyes on their last player. “Go get drinks for us and our new friend. Finn."

Melo went without question. Finn figured he would too, in that situation. Alvis turned his gaze back once they were alone.

"Got a last name, Finn? I like knowing who I’m in business with, after all."

“Are we in business? Gotta say, that’s news to me.”

“Said you were in transportation, didn’t you? I think you owe me a discount rate, seeing how you just got my last transporter killed.” Alvis’ eyes darted down to Itsy’s corpse, still in a heap at their feet.

“Gotta say, if that’s how you treat your transport, I’m not seeing a pressing reason to join up,” Finn muttered.

“Oh, I’m sure a nice kid like you’d never have cause to be as rude as Itsy was.” Alvis smiled a lot, but it was nothing like Poe’s bright, beautiful smile, or Rey’s sharper, cheeky smirk. Alvis’ smile was nothing but teeth and threats. “I despise rude people, Mr. Finn.”

His name was spoken with an added emphasis that Finn decided to skip right over rather than acknowledge.

“It’s a good thing I was taught to be polite, I guess,” he said. “Can you say it’s worth my while?”

Reaching across the table, Alvis scoped up Itsy’s abandoned credits and set the stack down in front of him.

“It most certainly could, Mr. Finn, but I’m going to need assurances. How do I keep track of a man without a name?”

Kreff. Finn had hoped Alvis would drop the matter after a few deflections, but the man was watching him with clear expectations for more. Finn pushed away the rising concern in his gut and cast his mind around for a name to give the man. What last names did he know? Organa? No, way too obvious. Skywalker was completely out of the question. Solo, too. He didn't believe in ghosts but he didn't doubt for a minute Han Solo could claw his way back from the grave to wring his neck if he went that far. Using Rey’s wasn’t even a consideration. Name, name, name.

Alvis was waiting. Behind him, Finn heard Melo return and stall behind him. Smart man, cutting off his exit.

"Dameron. Finn Dameron. Maybe you've heard of me,” Finn added for a touch of egotism to his new alias. Deflection never hurt in a cover, he had learned. “I was the one who nailed a Dead Engine Reverse maneuver against two Star Destroyers last year.”

It had actually been Rey, with Poe as her co-pilot in the Falcon, who had pulled off that particular bit of brilliant flying. But he didn’t think they’d mind him co-opting the tale if it meant keeping his skin in one piece.

Alvis laughed again with little humor and lots of danger. "No, can't say I’ve heard of you, kid. But I'm betting that’ll change soon. Now, sit your ass back down and tell me how you’d transport a stash of stolen blasters without tags. My new supplier’s the antsy sort with so much cargo sitting on him. It’s annoying, but what can you do?”

Finn barely resisted cawing in success.

“I’d love to meet him. Talk about logistics, all that.”

Alvis was all to happy to put them in touch with his supplier, and even offered to accompany them. Finn declined, siting the common paranoia that ran strong through all smugglers. Alvis gave him another amused, hollow smile but didn’t argue.

Finn had Lita run the name Alvis gave him through the Resistance’s database, and she came back with a hit in less than five minutes. Their leak turned out to be a Senator’s aide with a cash flow problem. Finn was in such a good mood he let Parnaj use the big guns when they stormed his hideout.

“You don’t have to do this!” the aide yelled as Lita hauled him aboard ship. “I have protection! You can’t touch me!”

Lita didn’t bother asking for approval. Picking up some of the bandages left over from Karvos’ first aid adventure, she unceremoniously stuffed them in the aide’s mouth. Properly muffled, she threw him into the brig and went to start the engines.

“Hey boss,” Parnaj called, blaster cannon resting across his shoulder. In front of him, Karvos was on his knees shuffling through crate after crate. “We got something over here."

Finn made a face of consternation at Karvos, sure his teammate was strained his wounded side too much. He ambled over to his teammates. Nosing over the younger man's shoulder, he raised an eyebrow at the mountains of credits revealed in the crate’s depths.

“Looks like he’s already sold a few of the blasters himself,” Karvos muttered, wincing as Finn helped him to his feet.

“Or a lot of them,” Parnaj corrected.

“Put it on the freighter,” Finn ordered. “The General can find a use for it."

“Well,” Karvos said, drawing out the single syllable into several.

“What?”

“It’s just…you said he was in business with Alvis?"

“That’s right.”

“Boss, Alvis isn’t a man you wanna cross. Even if we weren’t actually dealing with him. The man’s notorious, and I wouldn’t put it past him to take on the Resistance to get his payout when he finds out we took it. He definitely has the resources to try.”

Finn closed his eyes and bit back a groan. “Seriously? A couple of blasters can’t be worth his effort.”

“It could be if it affects his reputation.”

“I take it you’ve got an idea?”

“Why don’t we just give him the money?” Karvos suggested with a shrug, then grimaced and held his ribs.

Finn glared at him. “Sit down before you make yourself worse. And you’re suggesting giving dirty money made by selling weapons stolen from a Resistance base to a crime lord to save his reputation,” he summarized. Karvos glanced down at his boots for a moment before straightening his spine and meeting Finn’s eyes.

“Yes, sir. It’ll keep your cover in tact, too. Alvis won’t care what happens to a supplier as long as he gets his cut of the money. Something tells me they weren’t in business for very long, or else Alvis would've had more guards on him. Guys like him are possessive about their supply lines.”

Finn almost rejected the plan on principle, but the more he thought about it the more it gave him pause. It was a good idea, after all. The less evidence they left behind about their true identity, the better.

“Alright. Parnaj, take the hovercraft and run a couple of crates to Alvis. Tell him Finn Dameron sent you. We’ll rendezvous outside the city after you’re done.”

His crew paused, Parnaj and Karvos both stared at him with shocked expressions. Behind them, Finn heard a loud _thud_ as Lita stumbled inside the freighter.

“What?” he demanded, daring one of them to ask.

“Nothing, boss,” Parnaj replied quickly, handing his blaster cannon over to Finn and heading for the hovercraft without further prompting. “Nothing at all.”

*

Rey harbored deeply conflicted options about the Force after living with it for years. It helped immensely when Finn and his squadron had gotten pinned down on Dantooine, communications jammed and staring down a fully-equipped Star Destroyer. She remembered waking up in a cold sweat, and the hours she spent convincing everyone her shaking, scared, angry mess of thoughts wasn’t a night terror but actually happening half-way across the galaxy. The Force had helped her keep her and her loved ones safe. It had revealed a world that could bear untold happiness and adoration to counter all the atrocities and horrors that seeped in.

There were also times, usually when a whiny brat on a journey of self-discovery woke her up at an atrocious hour, that she hated the Force with every fiber in her body.

_I killed my father._

Rey groaned and dropped her head back against the Millennium Falcon’s hull. _Yes, you did._

This was one of the things they didn’t talk about. It only ever ended with Rey seething and Kylo distressed. But he seemed to be in a self-destructive mood with all of his internalized hate, hurt, and guilt oozing from his consciousness into hers.

_You said…you said you forgave me. Last time we met._

_I did. I needed to let the anger go. He wouldn’t have wanted me to cling to it. Neither did your mother._

Usually mentioning Leia without Kylo prompting got her some peace, but not today.

_Is she alright?_

_As alright as she can be. She wants to hear from you. As usual. Can I go back to sleep now?_

Kylo stayed silent, but he didn’t disappear. Rey tried to roll over and fall back sleep, but he started back up again.

_Why did you give it all up? You could have ruled everything. Killed me, taken my place at Supreme Leader Snoke’s side, ruled the galaxy one day._

_I can’t believe you still call a dead man that. It’s ridiculous._

_Why?_

_We’re not doing this right now._

Rey was less than an hour away from landing in port and she wanted a little shut eye before they docked. She and Chewbacca had been traveling nonstop along the Mid Rim, trying to figure out if rumors of a holdout pocket of First Order resisters bore any truth, or if it was simply more gossip across the galaxy’s underbelly. She was tired, lonely, and more than a little annoyed at the universe for wasting her time. Kylo wasn’t helping.

_I’m honestly curious. Was it for him?_

Finn, his smile showing every inch of his compassion and devotion, flashed through her mind’s eye. Rey snarled, sleep deprivation and distance making her temper hair-triggered. She hadn’t seen either Finn or Poe in nearly a month, but suddenly her concern skyrocketed to new heights, driven by paranoia and isolation. Had something happened? Where they okay?

_I told you to stay away from him._

_You always seem so sure I mean him harm. Why do you think I would care?_

Rey threw a memory back at him, hard enough to send them both reeling. It wasn’t a complete one, but she didn’t need to relive the unsettling pain of having someone root around thoughts that didn’t belong to them. Kylo reared back from her as if slapped.

_I didn’t do that to you. You’re stronger than that. You pushed me out._

_That wasn’t me._

She and Poe talked a lot about Kylo's romp through his mind. It was in the official report he made of his capture, and as such he was questioned by several departments about the method. She remembered the horrified dread in her stomach as she read the report one night. In the end she threw it aside and curled up against him until dawn, trying to figure out how to soothe an ache that had already scabbed over.

 _It didn’t need to hurt. You made it hurt because you could._ Forgiving him for that, like so many other things, had been hard. But Luke was right — hatred earned her nothing. However, she was still leery of letting Kylo anywhere near Finn or Poe, because forgiveness and trust were two very different things.

_He was strong. The pain distracted him._

_You’re not making it better._

_You’re angry at me._

_Yes, I am sometimes. You hurt someone I care about. A lot of someones, actually. That usually makes people angry._

_Do something about it, then._

For one brief moment, Rey considered turning the Falcon around and heading for the Expansion Region. She couldn’t pin down his exact location, but she could feel his pull like an ionized charge. It wouldn’t be hard to track him. It would settle the worry and speculation of leaving him out there on his own.

There was a heartbeat in her ears, and it wasn’t her own. She turned towards it, following the pull of the Force until she found the source, well protected in her memories.

Finn always slept like the dead.

“Got marks on my record with my superiors in the First Order,” he told them in the warm darkness they built up between themselves at night. “I had to be woken up with a buzzer every day. No matter how much they tried to train it out of me, it never took.”

Rey devoted herself to listening, curled around his chest and counting to his breath. She wasn’t alone; Poe’s heart was there too, softer but just as relaxed as he stretched out next to them, and it beat a calm baseline as he soothed Finn’s memories. His fingers waltzed up and down their entwined bodies, confident and loving in every touch. If she concentrated, she could hear BB-8 beeping softly in the background.

Finn had moved on from the First Order. He wasn’t a number anymore. He had a purpose, and people he loved, who loved him in return. Poe had moved on from Kylo. Just another scar, a part of him given to protect something he believed in.

Luke told her that Jedi feel equal compassion for everything. Rey struggled with that, with letting go of grudges she held for the people who mattered to her, but if Finn and Poe could move on, if General Leia could move on, then Rey could try.

Not rising to Kylo’s bait was part of trying.

_No. Let me go back to sleep._

_You weren’t sleeping._

_Yeah, but I was trying._

Kylo actually left her alone at that, but it made no difference in the end. She only grabbed about ten minutes of sleep before the Falcon’s alerts started blaring and Chewie’s growls brought her back to reality. Grumbling, she started working her way through the landing procedures. She knew they needed to stop, no matter how much she wanted to press on and get home. They needed new fuel cells, if nothing else.

After helping Chewie dock the Falcon in place, she disembarked, being sure her lightsaber was well-hidden by her clothes before she left to stretch her legs. It was startling how easily they were identified with so few lightsabers still in circulation around the galaxy. She had barely stepped foot off the loading dock when she was confronted by the dock hand with release papers. By now, she didn't even bother fighting it. Taking the datapad, she signed her squiggly ‘X’ mark.

"Dameron," she told the dock hand before she could throw a fit. She wasn't planning on being docked that long. Just gassing up, stretching her legs, and going. She wanted to be home.

She didn’t see the dock hand staring at the Millennium Falcon like it was paradise suddenly arrived, nor did she see her hitting her comrade on the shoulder and waving at it. Didn’t see the rumors start flying across the colony like wildfire.

*

Finn hated getting stuck in medical. He understood why he needed to be there, after all his leg shouldn’t be bent like that, but couldn’t they at least give him something to do? He was bored out of his skull, and irritable in his frustration.

His mood only marginally improved when Poe and Rey arrived. He was thrilled to see them, but his wounded pride could only take so much prodding.

“Got yourself a new scar, I see,” Poe greeted, his smile doing nothing to ease Finn’s grumpiness. He settled his forearms on the footboard of Finn’s medical bed while Rey pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. In the doorway, he saw BB-8 roll by, but rather than come in, the little droid rolled toward reception.

“You’re an idiot,” Rey told him. “Who falls off a weather antenna?”

“Hey now,” Finn protested. “I didn’t fall, Parnaj fell. I just dove to catch him.”

“And then fell yourself,” Poe finished, flicking the toes of Finn’s good foot through the covers.

“I will admit that wasn’t part of the plan,” Finn grumbled. “But they said I’ll be ready to leave in a little bit. They just need to get the discharge paperwork in order.”

“Did they give you a heal time?” Poe asked, pulling up Finn’s chart on the datapad near the bed.

“A few more bacta sessions and I should be fine by the end of the week,” Finn explained. “They’re still rationing, though.”

Rey shrugged and poked at his good elbow, climbing up onto his bed and curling into his side when he raised his arm. Settling her head on his shoulder, she started playing footsie with both he and Poe.

“I’m sure we can find something to do that’ll keep you off your feet,” she muttered, blinking innocently at Finn while Poe burst out laughing.

*

BB-8 spun down the hall toward the nurse’s desk, beeping a greeting to the station’s computer.

REQUEST. MEDICAL FILE FOR DESIGNATION: PATIENT CAPTAIN FINN.

DENIED the computer responded, causing BB-8 to droop. Usually the station computer was more cooperative.

QUERY: REASON?

REQUEST DENIED BY OVERRIDE ORDER.

QUERY: OVERRIDE ISSUED FROM?

OVERRIDE IDENTIFICATION: GENERAL LEIA ORGANA. ORDERS: “Computer, you are under no circumstances to allow BB-8 to discharge Commander Poe Dameron from the system without authorization from a medical professional ever again.”

CAPTAIN FINN =/= COMMANDER POE DAMERON

OVERRIDE IDENTIFICATION: GENERAL LEIA ORGANA—ORDERS/ADDENDUM: "That includes his two accomplices as well.”

Well that was just unfair.

“Esra, I can’t find Captain Finn’s medical records.”

BB-8 perked up at the sound of Finn’s name. Two non-identified humans came around the corner.

QUERY: the desk computer asked. DESIGNATION: BB-8 REVEAL SELF TO DESIGNATION: ENSIGN NURSE MA’VETRA AND DESIGNATION: LIEUTENANT NURSE COLLARD?

DENY. BB-8 rolled under the desk. Identification and interaction with non-identified humans was not desirable. Eavesdropping, however, was oft encouraged.

“Oh, yeah. That tripped me up the last time he was in, too. Look under Dameron."

“Really?”

“Yeah, one of the medi-droids put his admittance paperwork together the first time he came in with that lightsaber wound. It couldn’t find any data on him, so it filled in what it could. Commander Dameron was in almost every day to check on him, so Dr. Rhadda finally marked him down as next of kin so security would stop bothering him. ERS-970 extrapolated and finished out his file with that.”

BB-8 recalled that day. ERS-970 was a good friend, and had asked for advice.

“Can’t we just correct it?”

“With what? Captain Finn’s never updated his personnel file. Just leave it, if we try to change it now the admin staff will just tear their hair out about backtracking the change through the system. See look…click there, next tab over…yeah, see? Agent Rey’s is the same.”

“That’s crazy! Everyone knows she—,"

“Don’t change it! You know she doesn’t want her name in the system.”

“Honestly, Esra. This is ridiculous.”

“Just leave it, Kelse. If it’s really bothering you, I’ll take care of the rest.”

BB-8 waited until the nurses left before rolling out from under the desk. Checking with the computer confirmed Finn’s discharge paperwork was underway. Mission successful, BB-8 said bye to the reception desk computer (Poe always said it was smart to stay on medical’s good side) and rolled back to Finn's room, where Poe and Rey continued to monitor his healing. They did not manage well without constant supervision.

*

“Mr. Dameron,” came a slick voice behind Finn, sending a chill down his spine. Lita, dressed as a bounty hunter and cuffing their missing target on the floor in front of him, glanced up and over Finn's shoulder. Her eyes clearly said she was willing to blast their way out if he was.

Finn did not need that headache. A subtle motion waved her off, and he turned around with a bright smile plastered over his face.

“Alvis,” he greeted. “Good to see you again.”

The man’s giant, cold hands dropped onto his shoulders. “And you. What a coincidence, I was just thinking I had a job for you. If you’re not busy, that is.” Alvis’ eyes flickered down to Lita and their bound captive, a logistics expert by the name of Kelnor.

“Alvis, they’re—,” Lita didn’t let Kelnor finish his sentence, landing a rabbit punch between his eyes that knocked him out cold.

“Going into bounty hunting, Mr. Dameron?”

“A special favor for a friend,” Finn offered. It was technically true.The communication division had cough Kelnor attempting to sell Rey’s location to an extremist group keen on getting their hands on the last few Force users in the galaxy. Finn worked hard to purge most of his anger back on base; the General would never let him lead the operation to capture Kelnor if his emotions got the better of him. He’d be damned if he was going to trust Rey’s safety to another team, so he pushed out the rage and the burning need for revenge.

He was calm, but that didn’t mean he wanted complications. Alvis was definitely a complication.

“And here I thought you had no friends, Mr. Dameron. I’m pleased to see you branching out.” Alvis did seem pleased, taking Finn in with deep, endless eyes that tried to lure him in.

“So they tell me. It’s great to see you, Alvis, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to get this scumbag taken care of."

“We can handle that for you, Mr. Dameron. Free you up, so to speak. I have a shipment that needs to be halfway across the galaxy in a few hours, and I believe you’re the man who can get it there.”

“I don’t—,” but Alvis’ men were already swooping in, pulling Kelnor from Lita’s grip. Finn bit hard on his cheek to keep his temper in check. Kelnor was slipping through his fingers.

“I’m not letting this man go, Alvis,” he spat. “And my friend was rather looking forward to handling this herself.”

“Murder is a nasty thing to add to your rap list, Mr. Dameron,” Alvis advised. “I’d hate to see you get picked up by the authorities.”

He waved a careless hand, and one of his henchmen started dragging Kelnor’s body outside.

“Will your friend be requiring proof?” Alvis asked casually. Finn didn’t want to answer him, but thankfully, Lita had a stomach of steel.

“Yes,” she snapped. “I’ll take care of it, chief,” she told Finn. “You and Mr. Alvis here have a nice chat.” She turned to Alvis. “Just so you know, his friend has a possessive streak a lightyear wide.”

Finn didn’t blush. He didn’t. He also didn’t know how they were going to explain this to the General.

“Good help is so hard to find,” Alvis mourned, watching Lita disappear with his henchman before turning back to Finn. He had a way of gazing at Finn like he was a particularly interesting piece of machinery, intent on taking him apart to see what makes him tick. “Good friends, too.”

“They are,” Finn very determinedly did not think about Rey or Poe. Parnaj often told him he resembled a love-struck Ewok when they were mentioned around him. He didn’t need that on top of everything else going on. “You said something about a shipment, Alvis?”

“Always so intent on business, Mr. Dameron,” Alvis scolded lightly, as if he hadn’t just ordered the murder of a man to free up Finn’s supposedly busy schedule."Yes. Some cargo of mine needs to be delivered to some customers in the Colonies by the end of the week. Spices, and the like.”

Finn held back a sigh. He could refuse, he supposed, but there was no guarantee Alvis would take a refusal. Or he could just do the damn job. It would keep his cover intact, and the General liked keeping an eye on the current narcotic landscape. Many of the smugglers also used to run supplies for the Rebellion, back in the day. She was on first name basis with more than a few of them.

Oh well, there went the rest of his week. Maybe he could get some potentially interesting information out of it. At least Kelnor was taken care of, a much darker part of him celebrated.

“Let’s get it loaded up,” he said with forced cheer. The things he did to keep his cover.

*

"Did you hear? The Millennium Falcon's flying again."

"No!"

“Honestly! Collumn saw it at port on Vega! And the folks there said it's the same ship!"

"But Solo's dead. Ain't no one to fly it."

“Yapre saw the wookie there. Said there's this new kid at the helm. Dameron. She's got the guts for it, that's for sure."

"Dameron? Never heard of ‘em."

“I have! Heard a Dameron pulled a job for Alvis a few cycles ago. Heard they pulled off the Dead Engine Drop on those First Order assholes last year. Remember that?”

“What wasn’t the Millennium Falcon. Was it?"

“Was too, you nerf header! I’m tellin’ you, it’s back in the skies!”

“Evai said that Dameron flew that bucket of bolts just as well as Solo did. Better, even."

“Evai's a drunk.”

“Still! Just imagine. If Alvis used ‘em, they gotta be good, right? Never know when you’re gonna need a good smuggler."

*

“So,” Jessika said, planting her elbows on the bar table. “How are your ducklings?”

Poe groaned, and threw back another shot. The shot lent the bar a nice haze, and loosened the knot of tension sitting between his shoulder blades.

“I dare you to call Rey that to her face,” he snipped, mostly trying to distract Jess from her topic of choice.

“I did! She thought it was cute. Once I explained what a duck was and why it was funny.”

Poe couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was drowned out by the music and conversations around them. Jess grinned and bumped her shoulder into his, waving the bartender down for another round.

When his squadron had suggested going out for drink, he hadn’t minded tagging along. Rey wasn’t socially inclined to big outings like this, and with Finn’s flight plan not having him touching down for another six hours, she opted to stay behind with BB-8. Poe felt a certain responsibility for his squad; they deserved the break and he wanted to keep an eye out, make sure they stayed safe. The last time he left them alone during a bar crawl, Wexley was jailed for the better part of a week after a bar fight, and Iolo came back to base sporting a plethora of unsavory tattoos.

Finn understood Poe’s concern; he would likely do the same if Parnaj, Lita, and Karvos decided to get up to trouble for the night. Poe would watch out for them. However, alone and tipsy, it also became the perfect time for embarrassing questions.

“Really, I think it’s cute you’ve settled down and started a family,” Karé joined in, slinking up to Poe’s free side. Beside her, Iolo grinned with a wicked light in his eyes. Even Wexley suddenly seemed interested in the proceedings, head swiveling away from the pod racer game he was demolishing in the corner. Oh, no. Where was _any_ distraction when Poe needed one?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he started with, because denial had sometimes worked well for him in the past.

“Oh come on,” Jess teased. “Everyone knows the requisitions department just keeps all their stuff under your ID number now! When I tried to search out Finn’s mission debrief on the server, I had to look under your name to find him!”

“BB-8 follows both of them around like a sheepdog. Once upon a time it was only you who was so lucky,” Karé commented.

“Rey keeps signing your name on everything,” Iolo added.

“No, she’s not,” Poe interjected. Facts were facts, damnit. “She’s not signing anything and everyone decided to put down my name instead.”

“May as well,” Iolo muttered. “Good luck trying to find her under her own name.”

Poe scrubbed his face, trying to think of a way to change the subject. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Rey and Finn. He didn’t think he could have given so much of himself to both of them if he didn’t love them. It was just…they had never put a name to what they were doing. Never talked about anything other than the present. While the war had been in full swing, that made sense. It was stupid to fantasize about a future that may not exist. But now the war was won and they were….well, Poe didn’t know. Part of him could admit he was afraid to ask. He highly doubted either of them had an answer he would want to hear.

So, Poe decided on the tried and true method of throwing someone else under the transporter.

“Jess, wanna tell us why you were sneaking out of Major Ottoa’s bunk at four in the morning last week?"

“What!” Karé yelped, swinging around to a rapidly blushing Jess.

“You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!” she hissed. Poe shrugged unapologetically and stole her shot.

“That was before you decided to poke fun at my love life,” he told her before throwing back the clear alcohol.

“It’s true? When did that happen?!”

“This will not be forgotten, Dameron.”

“Tell me everything! Now!” Karé demanded, shoving Poe over so she could sit beside Jess. “I hear she has a wonderful tongue technique.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“I’m sure the First Order would have loved to know the Resistance’s elite Starfighter Corps are a bunch of gossips.”

Poe waved down the next round, his squad chattering around him. He knew Rey and Finn used his name when they needed to; had known for a few cycles now. He figured it was harmless since folks on base knew them. Though, now that people were commenting on it he had a newfound appreciation for Rey’s demands of privacy.

He put the round on his tab, and hoped alcohol would keep everyone occupied from going near the topic of his relationship again.

Iolo called it a night before long. He had been eyeballing a pretty thing at the bar all night and finally had enough liquid courage to make a pass. Last Poe saw, he had been stumbling out of the bar, thoroughly occupied. Wexley fell next, yawning and muttering about a recon flight he had scheduled in fifteen hours. Poe got him out the door with strict orders for as much water and sleep as he could manage between now and then. Hangover flying was stupid flying.

All that was left was Jess and Karé, both determined to drink one another under the table in between gossip. They garnered quite an audience, drawn in either by their figures or their trash talking, which was filthy enough to put most dock workers to shame. Poe settled in against the bar to wait them out. No way was he going to leave them here on their own.

“Step off,” he told an interested, hovering shadow. The man hard stared at him, and Poe seriously considered the odds of getting involved in a bar brawl, but in the end the man said nothing and slinked off. A suspicious indicator light in his mind lit up, and he eased the other pilots towards wrapping up.

“I woulda so kicked your ass if Poe hadn’t stuck his nose in,” Karé said, rising to her feet with only a little wobbling involved.

“In your dreams, gorgeous,” Jess told her. Karé, the pinnacle of maturity, responded by sticking her tongue out. She promptly stumbled over her heels, nearly face planting into the floor before Poe caught her.

“Alright, alright, up you go,” Poe ushered them outside, waving down a taxi. Karé had driven her dashing little one-seater motor bike out for the night, and she wouldn’t be happy to leave it behind. He dug the keys out of her pocket before guiding them into the taxi.

“Getting a bit familiar, aren’t you, Commander?” Karé said, wagging her eyebrows suggestively. Poe rolled his eyes and urged her into the backseat.

“Naw, he knows Rey’d gut him for stepping out,” Jess replied, climbing in after. “Then Finn’ll do that sad puppy eyes thing. Kreffin’ irresistible, that is.”

Poe knew exactly what she was talking about, and he had to agree. It was irresistible.

“Get ‘em back to the base on the hill, would you?” he told the driver, handing over more than enough credits to cover the trip. Most of the locals turned a blind eye to the Resistance base in the past, only acknowledging it in vague terms. The driver nodded nonetheless.

“Take care of my baby!” Karé yelled through the open window.

“Crash it, Dameron!” Jess countered.

“Don’t listen to her!" Karé told him, sticking her head out the window to plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “Do my babe right and I’ll let your babes know you’re heading home soon."

“It’s a deal,” he told her, waving as the taxi hovered away.

Spinning Karé’s keys between his fingers, he returned to the bar to sign for the credit bill. He figured he’d take a quick walk to sober up, before firing up Karé’s one-seater. Only, when he handed the receipt back to the bartender, his suspicious indicator light started flashing more urgently as the man paused over his signature.

"Dameron, huh? Got some friends who wanna talk to you."

“What?”

“Hey, Marko! This is him!”

Poe turned around. He never saw the stunner coming.

*

_He's missing. He's missing. He's missing he's missing he's missing._

_I'm trying to sleep._

_He's missing he's missing he's missing._

_Who’s missing?_

_Go away. I don’t have time to deal with you._

_Is it your little storm trooper?_

Unbidden, a flash of said storm trooper flew through his head; healthy, whole, and agitated at her side. She had been holding his hand for a while—Kylo’s own palm felt warm and cramped. Not him, then.

_The other one? The pilot?_

That did it. A flood of worry, combined with a healthy dose of rage and vengeful wrath ran through him. How exhilarating. Kylo tipped his head back and enjoyed the rush, which came with none of the guilt he felt when letting his own emotions loose.

_Now that’s what I like to hear._

_Go away!_

_Don’t tell me you managed to lose him._

_I didn’t lose him. Someone took him._ Fear and fury coursed through her. Through him. Kylo was wide awake now, his heart beating fast and his blood throbbing through his veins. The anger was so pure, so intoxicating. It set his senses humming.

_Tempting to use it all, isn’t it?_

She slammed the proverbial door in his face, but Kylo didn't mind. This was nice. This was something he could do, and he did like to stay busy.

*

Poe hated stunners. They always left him groggy and shaky. Even with his consciousness slowly returning, he couldn't decipher which way was up. The bag over his head wasn't helping. He tried to move, only to find his limbs hampered by a pair of heavy handcuffs binding his arms behind him. They looped around the back of his chair, and as he slumped forward, they were probably the reason he hadn’t fallen over yet.

There was muffled noise near him. A voice? More than one, it sounded like. Poe strained to listen.

“—not Dameron,” one hissed.

"That's what his people called him! It’s how he signed the bill!” voice number two exclaimed.

"Be that as it may, he's not the one I'm looking for!"

“How do you know? It’s not like you've met him."

“Her,” A third voice interjected.

“Oh shut up with that already. Everyone knows it’s a him.” Voice one again.

“Maybe they're a new smuggling group. Could be a gang, instead of just the one?"

“Huh. Think we can ransom him back, then? That’s gotta be worth a payout."

“Oh for kreffing sake—,”

Poe heard footsteps, and the bag was ripped off his head. The sudden glare of bright lights made Poe cringe. He pressed his eyes closed to get rid of the black spots dancing across his eyes, but a heavy slap from his capturer snapped them open again.

“Tell us about the shipment,” he demanded. Poe decided his name would be Angryface.

“Ain’t got any idea what you’re talking about, pal.”

The man raised his hand and struck a punch across his face. Poe’s world spun. He couldn't help but be a little bitter that his counter-interrogation training was turning out to be such a vital skill.

“Don’t play games,” Angryface snapped. “We know of you, Dameron. Flies the Millennium Falcon, runs contraband for Alvis. Heard you’re running some sweet cargo for him right now. We want it.”

“Don’t know anyone by that name,” Poe denied. He may not know what was going on, but he’d be damned if he gave them an inch.

He couldn't stop his wince at the sound of the stunner activating. Biting, rapid pain rocketed through his body and took his breath away. All Poe could do was clench his teeth and bear it.

“Do you really think this is the first time someone’s tried to torture me?” he snapped when he could form words again. “It isn’t, and I gotta say, your technique’s seriously lacking. Let me out of these cuffs and I’ll show you what I mean.”

That earned him another round from Angryface, but it was worth it. His anger made him sloppy, and a sloppy interrogation was easier to survive than an organized, methodical one. It also kept his other friends from joining in, so terrified they were that he would turn on them. Poe clung to that while he did his best to endure. Anything could be helpful in trying to escape.

Eventually, voice number three, dubbed Nailbiter since the guy seemed determined to whittle them down to nothing, pulled Angryface off him. It turned out there were actually four of them, and their taciturn fourth was left on guard duty. Poe thought for a bit before settling on Shifty. Unfortunately, with that entertainment satisfied he was forced to focus on himself. His body let him know how much it disapproved to being subjected to multiple stunner attacks with aching pain through his bones and short, gasping breaths struggling through his lungs. The adrenaline faded, and goosebumps started rising across his skin.

He needed to stop thinking about it. Dwelling made it worse. Poe tested his restraints, and was happy to discover that while the shackles binding him were heavy and thick, they weren’t connected to the chair. If he could get the guard out of the room, he had a chance to move.

He realized he was in a freighter carrier of some kind rather than a building. There were no windows, and he had no way to calculate how long he had been unconscious, but the hull of a ship was unmistakable. He pressed his feet to the floor and listened, relieved when he couldn’t feel an engine running. They weren’t out in the middle of space, so probably docked somewhere remote. Kidnappings weren’t the kind of thing you conducted in busy ports. Odds were they were no longer on D’Qar; he would like to think he’d have already been found if that were the case.

Angryface had mentioned the Millennium Falcon, which probably meant Rey. What did they want with her? She usually avoided the criminal organizations that ran through the galaxy. Also, they didn’t appear prepared to take on a Force-user.

They said ‘him’. Finn’s missions were becoming more and more covert as they integrated back into the Republic, but he wasn’t a pilot. He never took out the Millennium Falcon without Rey.

They were keeping Poe alive for something, and they didn’t seem to know about his connection to the Resistance. That gave him some options to work with.

Poe spent enough time in space to have a pretty good internal clock, when conscious. He estimated it was about six hours before Angryface and his friends came back. They played another round of demands and denials, followed by pain. Poe buckled down and pushed through it. They weren’t seasoned interrogators, instead more used to beating answers out of their victims than using any more sophisticated methods of information extraction. He was stronger than they were.

Eventually, the adrenaline sent his mind passed the pain. His thoughts circled back around to Finn and Rey. He hoped they were alright. BB-8 would make sure they ate and slept, the little droid used to keeping track of their habits after years of dealing with Poe’s erratic schedule, then theirs as well. Finn would have landed by now, so they should still be safe at the base. No one would be stupid enough to try and kidnap them there.

“This is a waste of time,” the second of them said when Angryface took a break. Poe called him Worrywart. “We should call Alvis and make a deal for his transporter back. This shit isn’t worth a load of spice."

“Says you. Street value on this stuff could buy a kreffing planet. Besides, if we try to ransom him, Alvis may kill us for messing with his pet smuggler.” Angryface snapped back.

“What do you suggest, then? Letting him go? Killing him? ” Nailbiter growled. Shifty shifted, but added nothing. With all his indifference to their situation, Poe suspected he wasn’t really all that involved with the outfit. He could potentially have a separate exit plan.

“No! Just—let’s think this through, yeah?” Worrywart suggested with desperate hope.

A series of polite knocks on the hull rang out through the cell. Everyone froze.

The knocks came again.

“You gonna get that, or should I?” Poe asked. Angryface backhanded him again but it was worth it to see the sudden fear alight in his eyes. They hadn’t expected to be found.

Shifty stalked behind him and covered his bleeding mouth with one big hand. Nailbiter left to investigate. Sound moved easier through cold air and silent steel, and Poe strained to hear the conversation.

“What’d’ya want?”

"I hear you have someone I'm interested in," came a mellow voice. Should Poe know that voice? It sounded so damn familiar...

"You Dameron?"

“…Yes. Sure."

Poe snorted, and received a warning jerk from Shifty. What was the galaxy’s obsession with co-opting his name?

“Well, our new friend is yours for a price.”

“Don’t bother. You want to let me in."

“…I want to let you in.”

“The hell?” Angryface growled, slipping out the door.

Any humor drained out of the situation. Poe tugged at his restraints, trying to warn them what was coming, but Shifty jerked him again and ignored his muffled words. Stupid! There were only three people in the universe who could convince someone like that and he knew for a fact that two of them didn't sound like gravel dragged over broken glass.

At the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber activating, Poe’s mind spun into crisis mode, shutting out all other thoughts besides escaping. Worrywart ran out the door towards the sound, and Shifty’s hand loosened enough for Poe to speak a word of warning.

“Pal, just run,” he told Shifty, who seemed torn between sudden fear and paralyzing indecision. _Go, go_ , Poe silently willed. “Seriously, he’s going to kill you. I’m not worth it, and you know it.”

Shifty needed no more prompting. He ran out the room without a backwards glance. Alone, Poe hoped he could escape unhindered. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he wasted a valuable moment stepping through his bound arms to get them in front of him. He edged out the cell door on cautious feet.

There was shouting in the main hallway, but it didn't drown out the electric buzz of the lightsaber. Poe hoped they would distracted each other as he made a break for it. The cockpit at the other end of the ship should have an escape hatch.

He made it about twenty feet before large hands grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him back. Angryface, bleeding from a nasty cut on his forehead and cursing up a storm, hauled him back towards the fighting.

“You’re outmatched, just run!” Poe snarled. He tried to throw off the hold, but the gruesome, sickeningly familiar sound of the stunner activating warned him to brace himself before the prongs bit into the back of his legs. He was damn so tired of stunners. His knees slammed to the ground, his cuffed hands barely catching himself against the grated floor before his face could get there. His nerves were screaming, and it even hurt to blink. As he tried to sort out which limbs worked, a hand grabbed his hair and pulled him to his knees. The muzzle of the blaster pressed against his neck.

“Stay there, or I kill him!” Angryface growled.

“Wrong move,” Poe told him, gasping. “He doesn't care. Seriously, should have ran.”

Poe never claimed to be Force-sensitive, but he had often watched Rey train. He knew what the Force felt like when it was exerted on things around him. This was nothing like that. Rey’s usage felt like a breeze, coaxing and easy to her will. This was a firestorm in a bottle. Angryface voiced one more threat to Poe before he stiffened with a gasp. And kept gasping.

Poe dropped his face and closed his eyes, embracing the dark. He wouldn't stomach watching Angryface die. He would never make it out now, not when his body struggled with the after effects of a stunner attack. His mind woozy with the power around him. 

He expected worst, but it was a few more gasping breaths before the heavy thud of a lax body hit metal. Then footsteps. Poe tried not to cringe when chilly fingers tipped his chin up to the light, gentle but insistent.

"Open your eyes, Poe."

Poe complied without a second thought, the suggestion penetrating any resistance before it could mount. Kylo Ren stood before him, sans mask and sporting the same nasty scar across his face, staring down at him with amusement and more than a little condescension on his damn smug face. The lightsaber was deactivated, thankfully, but the handle dangled from his hands in a loose, casual grip that belied its deadliness.

They were alone; his capturers scattered, unmoving lumps around them. Kylo was barely ruffled. Poe figured he was allowed to be disgruntled at how easy it seemed for him.

"Maybe ask without the super secret Jedi powers next time,” he snipped. It hadn't felt like the last time Kylo had dipped into his head, but the desire to comply unsettled him.

Kylo shrugged, not put off by the criticism. Well, if Poe was going to die here...

“I didn't expect to see your ugly mug around these parts."

The grip on his chin tightened in warning. "She would not shut up about you. I would like to sleep sometime this cycle.” Kylo explained, his face overcome with a distant expression.

His explanation unnerved Poe. Rey had mentioned conversing with Kylo after the war when they were lightyears away from each other, but she hadn't expounded in detail and Poe had been reluctant to push. He understood that there were parts of the Force he couldn't comprehend, and asking about it caused Rey distress. He regretted that embraced ignorance now.

“Are you showing her this?” he asked. He hoped Kylo wasn’t. Both he and Finn had received their fair share of threats when the First Order realized how much they meant to Rey. She didn’t handle them being hurt because of her well. The last time, the First Order had posted Finn’s picture on every communications channel available, along with the words ’Traitor’, ‘Kill on Sight’, and ‘Reward Available'. Rey had nearly brought the entire base on Endor down around the staff’s ears.

“No,” Kylo told him, kneeling down. His hand released Poe's face, and the strong chill followed his fingers down as he picked at the cuffs. The metal twisted away from his skin and sent shudders up his spine. After a moment the restraints fell away and he was a free. “Do you want me to?"

“Not if you’re planning to kill me, I don’t.”

“She would obliterate me if I did that,” Kylo said, a startling amount of affection softening his voice. Poe opened his mouth, then decided against prodding that particular sarlacc pit.

"Stand up," Kylo ordered, rising to his feet. There was no added compulsion this time. Maybe that was progress? Rey had said that she thought she was rubbing off on him. Poe scrubbed at his wrists while stumbling up, trying to rid of feel of being bound.

Kylo's hand passed over his forehead, and Poe barely had time to feel an arm loop around his waist before unconsciousness claimed him.

*

She still tittered in the back of his skull, frantic and panicked. Had Skywalker not taught her to control herself? Kylo shook his head, hefted Dameron higher over his shoulder, and descended down the freighter’s loading dock.

He supposed he should do something about the bodies in his wake, but it seemed terribly inconvenient. Maybe he would inform someone once he returned to civilization. That would be what Rey would do, right? Well, she probably would not have her temper go like he had, or killed when incapacitation would have sufficed, but it had felt so good. The idiot should not have pulled a blaster on him.

Kylo turned, trying to remember which way town was. They all looked the same, after a while. Every planet, from the Outer Rim to the Core, clustered together in random splatters across the planet’s surface with their own cultures and traditions. But to him, Theed looked like Galactic City looked like Cloud City. He could never keep them straight. Oh yes, that way.

He stopped every once in a while to check Dameron’s breathing. He hadn’t favored any limbs in particular and hadn’t lost too much blood, so Kylo figured he was pretty much in one piece. That was…that was good. Kylo carried enough guilt in his life; he didn’t need hers piling alongside his.

Town loomed bigger than he remembered on the horizon. Had he been here before? Maybe he had. Everything was hazy the past few months, and only the sharp taste of spirits gave him any sort of clarity. It played havoc with memory, though. He grabbed a passing person.

“Hospital.” he said. The person stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. Kylo rolled his eyes, and he shook them. Gently.

“Hospital.” he repeated. The person pointed easterly, mouth opening and closing without making a sound. Kylo released them and started east.

The local hospital was one of the nicer ones Kylo decided. Bright and well cared for. Probably alright. Security tried to stop him, but Kylo dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Dropping his rescued pilot onto an open gurney near the entrance, Kylo turned to leave, only to find a tough-looking warden baring his path, outstretched arms wielding a data pad that she thrust into Kylo's hands.

"Fill these out," the admin ordered, medical staff already swooping in towards their new patient. Kylo considered tossing the forms aside and leaving, but the first box on the datapad caught his eye.

Now wouldn't that just tweak her nose?

He answered the form as best he could, surprised by how much of Poe Dameron’s life he could recall. He guessed he had gathered more than originally thought in his first dip into the pilot's mind. (Part of him knew that wasn't true. Part of him remembered, decades ago, playing with a young, reckless boy with parents who herded stars.)

He didn't want to think about that. He wouldn’t think of that.

Forms completed, Kylo dropped off the datapad at the front desk and settled down to wait. He realized he was interested in watching how this played out. That was new.

*

Finn held his worry close, nursing it like his first cup of coffee. He didn’t push it out or sweat it off his skin like Poe ( _where is he?!_ ) or slam it closed and lock it away like Rey ( _breathe, breathe, Luke would tell her to breathe_ ). Instead, worry sat in Finn’s chest, a bright ball of heat that Rey could almost feel if she rested her hand against his heart. She pressed her palm hard against his skin, focusing on him in the chaos of the control room. He was warmth and light and love and all the things that contained the darkness screaming inside her.

_A nice, little sun. Or is he an ocean again? I can never keep your metaphors straight._

Finn’s hand came up to cover hers. She was glad. She needed to focus on watching Finn, because if she didn’t he might disappear too. If that happened...she couldn’t think about that. It led to spiraling, heady rage and loss of remorse for that rage. Like falling off a cliff and never finding the bottom.

_Oh, there is a bottom to it. You should come visit sometime, there is a marvelous lack of morals that I think you would enjoy._

“They’ll find him,” Finn told her, his other hand rubbing up her ribs, down to her waist, then back up again. It eased the throbbing pain of her scar, and let her take a breath without gasping. “You know how stubborn he is. He wouldn’t die on us.”

“He knows we’d never forgive him if he did,” she muttered. It wasn’t much of an effort, but Finn’s smile was worth it. He couldn’t disappear on her, but she couldn’t drift away from him. They needed each other.

Slowly the room faded back into awareness; voices she didn’t recognize penetrated her thoughts, and the flicker of holoscreens danced in Finn’s eyes.

“Better?”

Rey dropped her head onto Finn’s collarbone. “Yeah.” Not great, but better.

A soft cough came from behind them. Rey glanced over her shoulder to see General Leia watching them with her arms crossed, eyebrow cocked. Rey cocked an eyebrow back at her, but Finn’s embarrassment made his skin heat up.

“Now that you are done terrifying my staff,” Leia said. Rey couldn’t remember the last time she looked this exhausted, but her spine was straight and her chin high. “We think we have an update. This way.”

She led them into a side room off the main control base that required four different types of security to access. The little room revealed was dark and barren but for a few terminals manned by officers with the intelligence division insignia.

“The Republic disapproves of me monitoring private channels,” the General explained softly. “But I think we can agree that what they don’t know, won’t hurt them. Lieutenant Whilla informs me that Commander Dameron’s name has finally surfaced on their radar.”

“You found Poe?” Rey asked. Demanded. One of the officers stood and turned her screen toward them.

“Affirmative,” she reported. Her badge identified her as Whilla. "It appears that Commander Dameron was checked into a medical facility on Bothawui six hours ago. Initial reports reveal dehydration, an assortment of abrasions and burns, and a mild concussion but nothing severe enough to warrant a bacta tank. They expect he'll wake up soon and make a full recovery."

"Wake up soon? Is he alright?” Finn questioned as Rey leaned forward to flick through the information on the screen, already calculating how long it would take to get to Bothawui.

“We believe so. Best the staff can attest, he's been sedated in some manner, but it’s showing no side effects. They plan to release him pending him regaining consciousness."

Relief flooded through her, but the General’s face stopped any celebration. She stood calm, with her hands folded behind her and her expression grim. No emotion touched her face.

“There’s more?” she guessed.

"We've uncovered another alias Kylo Ren is operating under,” Lieutenant Whilla started, her eyes darting to Rey with an uncomfortable expression on her face.

“Why, exactly, does that matter now?” Rey growled. The General steadfastly stared ahead while Lieutenant Whilla shuffled, clearly unhappy about delivering the rest of her information.

"Ben Dameron, a man matching Kylo Ren's description, signed as next of kin and guardian on Captain Dameron's admittance paperwork."

Rey's anger was a frosty blanket covering the com room. Lieutenant Whilla shuffled back a few steps. Finn’s fingers became a vice over her own.

"I'm sorry, what?”

_What happens when the sky disappears?_

_You better not have hurt him._

_Oh, now you want to talk to me? I think I should be hurt._

_Throw your damn temper tantrum later!_

_You know they were after you, right? The Dameron who flies the Millennium Falcon and smuggles spice for crime lords. That does not sound like your golden boy. Does he know you’re a thief?_

_Is he alright?_

_Have you considered trackers? I am sure your boys won’t mind. Nice little collars, maybe—_

_Ben!_

Her vision blackened around the edges, and for a moment she was standing systems away, watching through another set of eyes as Poe slept. There were new bruises on his face, but the steady beeping of machines meted out a reassuring rhythm around him. His chest rose and fell in time with hers.

_…Thank you._

_Keep better track of them next time. Suns, skies, oceans; you seem to have an attraction to immensity._

_Said the conductor to the conduit._

“We’re leaving,” Rey said, heading for the door with Finn in tow. “Right now.”

“Rey,” the General’s voice stopped her cold. Rey turned back.

“How is he?” the General asked. For a moment, her mask cracked and Rey saw the worry and compassion the normally held close.

“He’s well,” she replied. “Not happy, but he’s trying. He. He says hello.”

_No I don’t._

_Yes, you do. Even if you can’t manage to string the right words together. Call her. She wants to hear from you._

Kylo said nothing in return, melting out of Rey's mind. The General nodded, her shields already back up. She dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

*

Poe woke up, and immediately hated everything. It was too bright, and everything too loud. He felt gross and wanted a shower. Dried blood and sweat made his skin disgusting. Whatever was screaming near his head needed to stop. He tried to move a hand to bat it away, and hissed when he realized he didn’t have the energy to move that far.

He groaned as the noise from the machine spiraled louder before a familiar series of clicks and beeps hushed it. Poe’s heart leapt in his throat, and he let his hand drop off the bed. A happy _squick_ was the only warning he got before a familiar little droid butted up against his fingers.

“Hey buddy,” he crocked. His mouth was dry, his throat raspy; a big sign that he had been sedated for at least the night. With a great heave, he rolled onto his side, peering down the edge of the bed to grin as BB-8’s lens stared back at him. “How’d you get here?”

**Wrrk-eeek beepboub eeerrkeeeeeeeewwwomp.**

“They did?” Poe blinked. Glancing around, he realized he was alone. No kidnappers. More importantly, no Kylo. And in a hospital room. Joy.

Had Kylo taken him to a hospital? What the hell had he done that for?

Pushing the thin covers aside, Poe eased himself upright on shaky hands. His body was stiff and achy, but as he took stock of himself he was relieved that nothing felt broken or ruptured. There was an old-fashion IV in his arm, and about a dozen different sensors connecting him to various machines which took him a good while to untangle himself from. The readouts on the machines went haywire after he did, but they stayed quiet as per BB-8’s command.

**Booooopbeep preeek.**

“I’ll lay back down soon, buddy. Just need to find out what’s going on first. Where are they?”

BB-8 tilted its lens down and shuttered its vents, disapproving of his decision. Nonetheless, when Poe slid onto his feet, it rolled to the sliding glass door and clicked twice, tapping at it with an extender arm.

The linoleum was cold under his bare feet. His clothes, probably in horrible condition after his confinement, had been replaced with a thin, basic hospital robe. It was better than being naked, but not by much. He’d worry about that later, he supposed.

Poe pulled up his chart on a nearby screen and scanned through it. Nothing horrific, at least, though he grumbled about the concussion. If he wasn’t careful, someone would flag that, and the medical regs would recommend keeping him out of the sky for a month while they monitored him. Glancing at the date, he realized three days had passed since his night out at the bar. He groaned, dropping his forehead against the screen.

BB-8 let out a low whistle and rolled back to him, bumping against his leg.

**Squeeeek beep. Sheueeeeuu.**

Poe leaned down and dropped his hand across BB-8’s domed head.

“Thanks buddy. I’m glad to see you, too. Sorry I worried you."

**Weeeeeoooop.**

“For sure.” Straightening, Poe went to the door, slid the glass open, and peeked into the hallway. It must be the night shift; the hallway was a vacant strip of bright light and shuttered glass doors much like his own. BB-8 rolled passed him, and tilted itself to the right.

“That way, huh?"

**Beep beep.**

Poe was stiff enough that keeping one hand on the wall turned out to be a great idea. BB-8 kept pace with him, and threatened to alert the medi-droids every time he paused to catch his breath.

“I’m fine, just working out the kinks.”

**Weeeeeooopp. Zzzzeeeb beep.**

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, that's exactly how humans work.”

**Beep bop bup.**

“I really have no idea when you became so sarcastic. You were such a mild-mannered droid when we first met.”

BB-8 butted up again, letting out a faint humming noise as it leaned on his legs, light enough not to cause anymore strain. Poe smiled at the comforting gesture, and slowly straightened himself from the wall.

He heard voices around the same time that he saw signs for reception. Loud, familiar voices that made him smile.

“It’s not like we’re asking for access to your records, we just want to know he’s alright!”

“And I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’ll say it again: family only when visiting hours are over. If you’d like to come back in the morning, we’ll gladly arrange for a visitor’s pass then.”

“We are family!”

“And if that’s the case, I will be more than happy to add you to the list, once I see identification.”

“Seriously?"

“Mr. Dameron’s next of kin didn’t approve anyone else on the guest list. I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”

Leaning his shoulder against the corner, Poe took a moment to watch them. He knew Rey hated using Force mind-tricks; she disliked the idea of imposing her will onto someone else. Combined with his own discomfort, and she usually relegated the skill to life-or-death situations. However, faced with an receptionist who showed no signs of budging and regulations she couldn’t cheat, Rey looked ready to compromise.

Finn, beside Rey at the desk and probably the reason she hadn’t blasted her way through yet, looked decidedly exhausted. He kept checking the communicator in one hand while his other loosely entwined around Rey's. He wasn’t saying anything, but the social butterfly he turned out to be, he had made friends in the technology division. Poe was willing to bet his slick communicator had a few tricks for getting into databases.

Poe didn’t trust his voice not to break if he anything loud enough to catch their attention, so instead he rapped on the wall with his knuckles.

“Hey you,” he whispered to them both, trying not to laugh as they simultaneously snapped toward him. It was adorably ridiculous how in sync they became after too much time together.

“What are you doing out of bed!” Rey yelled. Finn darted around the desk, dragging Rey with him. The receptionist huffed and snatched at the blue phone situated at the edge of the desk; Poe hoped they weren’t about to get mobbed by security.

Then it didn’t matter, because Finn’s arms wrapped around his waist, Rey’s nose pressed into his collarbone, and Poe’s world zeroed down to the three of them. Rey tucked under his arm, and with their support Poe’s body sagged with relief. He was finally warm. Vaguely, he heard BB-8 whirling and trilling around them, probably much happier now that it could keep an eye on them at once again.

“I’m fine,” Poe told them. No matter how many times he repeated it, no one was going to believe him for a while. “Right as rain—could I get my discharge paperwork?” he called out to the receptionist, who glared at him while juggling the phone and a datapad.

“No, but if you want them here you could sign off on this and get back to your room. I’ve contacted your doctor.”

“Oh, great.”

Poe scribbled a quick scrawl next to Finn and Rey’s own names, noticing their signatures on the visitor’s sheet. They needed to talk about this.

“Room 153,” the receptionist told them after Poe returned the datapad. They dragged him off without further discussion.

“I can walk,” Poe tried to point out. Finn glared (when was the last time Finn had been angry enough to do that?) and abruptly stepped away, dragging Rey with him. Poe managed to stand on his own feet for about three steps before the wall’s support became necessary again.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Finn grumbled, swooping back in to lend his shoulder as Rey glued herself back to his side.

**Wheeeeep boop!**

“Yes, I know you told me so,” Poe told the droid.

“And you should have listened! Damnit, Poe, you’ve got stunner burns all down the back of your legs.”

Huh. Poe glanced down over his shoulder and saw the line of crocked burn marks running down his calves. So that’s why his legs weren’t cooperating. He figured he had more littering his torso and arms as well.

“They’re almost healed up,” he defended, feeling contrary. Rey huffed but said nothing else. The stubborn tilt of her jaw told Poe the discussion was far from over.

Once back in his room, Finn pushed towards the bed while Rey shuttered the privacy blinds. Then, she began reconnecting the sensors Poe had disconnected to escape.

“That’s really not necessary,” he protested, though the machines seemed happier now.

“Shut up. You got kidnapped, you don’t get to have an option on that right now.”

Poe grimaced, but let her have that. Not that it prolonged the inevitable.

“Are we gonna talk about this?” he asked as gently as he could. Rey froze, expression worried and almost scared. Finn suddenly found the floor interesting, his shoulders shrinking in and his face going wooden. Poe felt his heart contract painfully. This was why they hadn’t had this conversation before; it terrified them both so much, and he never wanted to push for more than they were comfortable giving.

But that was before he ended up in the hospital.

“Come here?” he made sure to say it as a question, holding his hands out to both of them.

He swapped them places on the bed, grabbing the backless rolling chair that was normally for the doctor. Perching on that, he interlaced each of his hands with theirs, creating a loose angle between them. Finn encircled his fingers between his own palms, warm and strong and steady. Rey, after fiddling with the pulse reader attached to the tip of his finger to make it sit right, braided their fingers together and rested them on her lap.

“Everyone comfy?” That was the first step to this conversation, after all. Finn nodded, but Rey’s mouth twisted as she thought. After a moment, she scooted over to lay her head on Finn’s shoulder.

“Better,” she muttered.

“Good,” Poe replied. “Now, we need to talk about why you both keep stealing my name.”

Immediately, he saw the stress and anxiety bleed off them in waves. Finn tried his best to sink into himself, and Rey appeared to stop breathing all together.

“I’m not mad,” he told them. A good deal of Finn’s stress over their relationship stemmed from the idea that Rey or Poe would leave the moment they got upset with him. It meant that he went out of his way to make sure they never argued, but it also made communication difficult. And despite her Jedi training, Rey ignored any feeling that left her unsettled. Poe wondered if it was a leave over from Kylo’s influence. “I just think we need to talk about what’s going on here.”

“Nothing has to change,” Finn said in a rush. Rey’s fingers tightened to near-painful levels as she nodded frantically in agreement. Not quite where Poe wanted this conversation to go.

He took a moment to plot out what he wanted to say. Never in his life had he thought he would be the most experienced person in a romantic relationship. He knew his own views were sometimes skewed: his early twenties were spent exploring, and he had it on good authority from a few ex’s that he was a stubborn romantic with picky ideals, and a tendency to see only what he wanted to see in people.

But at least he understood that about himself. Sometimes, he cringed knowing he had practically a decade on Finn and Rey. He knew who he was and what he wanted; both of them still struggled to figure it out. When their relationship first began, Poe told himself he would only stay involved until they could work out their own wants, like a guide leading them to each other. But that didn’t turn out to be the reality of their relationship. When they had questions, he loved to help them find answers; when they made requests, he enjoyed fulfilling them. Whenever he tried to untangle himself, they clung harder and he let them.

He wouldn’t take advantage of them. But that meant they couldn’t either.

“I’m okay with you both using my name,” Poe started with, because it was the easiest place to start. “I know you’ve both been doing it for a while.”

Rey said nothing; her poker face was firmly in place until she felt comfortable enough to drop it. Finn, in contrast, couldn’t keep his mouth from starting.

“It was an accident, I’d say it won’t happen again but—believe it or not, Finn Dameron’s got one helluva reputation as a smuggler now."

“I’m going to make you tell me that story one day,” Poe said, smiling to reassure Finn. “Because it sounds amazing. However, I think it’s safe to say you've made some enemies.”

“Yeah. I’m...I’m not quite sure what to do about that. I know I don’t want you—either of you—hurt because of me. That’s the last thing I want. But…"

“We’re not gonna to get mad, Finn. What do you want?"

“I like running covert missions,” Finn told their combined hands. “I don’t want to give that up, if, you know, I don’t have to. I’m doing work that matters, and I’m really good at it."

Poe wheeled forward and pressed a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “You’re excellent at them, if the General’s to be believed. I’m sure the espionage division has protocol for things like this. They just need to know about it.”

Finn nodded, and while he still wouldn’t make eye contact with anything but the floor, his shoulders were looser. He didn’t look as if he were going to bolt anymore.

“I don’t want to take either of you away from work you enjoy,” Poe continued. “I’d never want you to ask me to stop flying. I just want you both to be sure about what you want.”

“I know what I want,” Rey snapped, her eyes going sharp her nails digging into the flesh of Poe’s palm. “Don’t treat me like a child, I know my own mind.”

Poe didn’t immediately respond. Arguing with Rey only made her dig her heels in and deny she was feeling anything. He brought their hands up and pressed a kiss into her knuckles in a peace offering.

“That wasn’t my intention, but I’d like know what it is you want. I don’t think they can stay the same anymore.”

“I don’t,” Rey started, only to stop and gnaw on her lower lip. Finn made a disapproving noise, untangled one of his hands, and reached for one of the datapad stylus’ next to the monitors. He stuck that between her teeth before she could tear through her own skin. Poe gave Finn a smile; he wanted Rey to take as much time as she needed to work through her thoughts, but he’d prefer she not make herself bleed in the process.

Rey ignored them for a minute, twisting the stylus around as she bit down on the plastic. Finn traced his fingers along Poe’s knuckles while they waited. It felt divine; Poe wondered how he could get Finn to do that more often.

“I’m not my name,” she decided on in a sudden burst of words. “The moment I own up to it and let the universe know, I’m stuck with…with everything that happened. All Rey Dameron needs to worry about is her family.” She said the last part so softly it almost didn’t come out at all.

“Is that what we are?” Finn asked. “Only, I wasn’t sure if we had a name for it.”

Poe’s heart ached. In Finn’s world, year and years ago, things that got named also got taken away. Poe had to remember that the top officers of the First Order were dead and gone, and wishing them ill wouldn’t do anyone good. They needed to move on.

“We’re family,” Poe reiterated, light-headed with joy at the thought. Now that it was out in the air, thinking anything else was impossible. “We love each other, and we want to be with each other. What I have is yours, name and all. That’s...” He couldn’t stop grinning.

“Tell us what you want, Poe,” Finn asked with a quiet smirk. Poe freed his hand to flick his stomach in retaliation.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you both," he said, prepared to leave his heart on the battlefield. “I tried not to think that far ahead, but honestly, I’ve felt like that since the beginning. Now it’s all I want to think about."

“The beginning?” Rey asked. Her face was buried in Finn’s shoulder, but her eyes looked at him through her lashes. “We had a few different beginnings. Which one?”

They were giving him rope to hang himself with. Poe loved it.

“Did you know she kept calling the medical office to check in on you while she was training with Skywalker,” he told Finn. He knew they’d told this story before, but it was his beginning. “After a while, I just took over comms because the staff was tired of fielding her calls, and I was always in your room anyways, waiting for you to wake up.”

“We talked about star charts,” Rey recalled, her voice far away. “You told me some of the stories behind the constellations.”

“And I listened to you reprogram a stable audio feed without a guide manual.” Poe still remembered how stunned he had been, listening to her do something in minutes that would have taken him hours, if not days.

“We talked for weeks,” he continued, thinking back. “And then, Finn, you woke up. Then Skywalker told Rey about the Force-Sensitive trees. You both wanted to see how the one my mother kept had grown."

“I wanted out of that hospital bed,” Finn corrected. “Seeing your childhood house was an added benefit.”

Rey nosed at his shoulder, a silent command to be quiet.

“You landed the Falcon right in the front yard—which by the way, whole different fantasy there, we’ll get to that later—and you nearly ripped a hole in the side of the hull getting to each other. But then you turned, and you hugged me.” Poe shrugged. “That was my beginning. At least with you.”

He turned to smile at Finn. “It was much easier with you. You took your helmet off and told me you’d come to rescue me and I was done for.”

“I’m fairly sure that’s not what I said.”

“No, but that’s what I heard.”

Finn surged forward and pressed his lips to Poe’s. It wasn’t a deep kiss, but it held passion all the same and it took Poe’s breath away. He had a moment to catch up while he watched Finn turn to Rey and treat her to a similar kiss, though watching them didn’t clear his head. Rey used their linked hands to drag him closer, and once she released a panting Finn she turned her attention to him. Her kisses were biting where Finn’s were questing, and she left Poe with stinging lips and gasping for a semblance of sanity.

“We should probably get out of here,” he told them once he could speak again. “But first, I want us to remember that families talk about things, even the not-fun things. And we still have a lot to talk about. Agreed?"

“Okay.”

“Yes.”

“Awesome. Now, discharge papers. We need the doctor for those.”

Rey glared at the door. “Didn’t the front desk say they paged your doctor? Shouldn’t they be here by now?"

“Oh, yeah,” Poe moved toward the door to investigate, Finn waved him back into his seat and hopped off the bed. Going to the door, he slid it open enough to peer outside.

“What the— BB-8, what are you doing?”

“Oh thank you, thank you, could you call your droid off! It won’t let me by!"

Poe blinked in surprise. That didn’t sound like BB-8. He couldn’t get to the door with all the sensors reattached, but if BB-8 was in trouble he wasn’t going to just sit by. Finn shifted to let him see out the door, and Poe had to bite back a laugh.

His doctor had shown up. And BB-8, in an attempt to give the three of them privacy, had positioned itself in front of the door. When the doctor had attempted to get in the room, BB-8 had gone into what Poe thought of as ‘attack alert’ mode. All its indicator lights flashing bright, white light and its blowtorch extender out in full force. When the doctor took a cautious step towards the door, the droid let out a high-pitched shriek of warning.

“Oh boy, I’m so sorry,” Finn muttered, leaning down to nudge at BB-8. “We’re good, buddy, you can let him in."

BB-8’s alerts ceased and its blowtorch retracted. It let out a cute little beep, and rolled into the room without another glance toward the doctor.

“You can ask all the questions you want,” Poe said with a bright smile as Rey slid off the bed. “Or you can sign my discharge papers, be back in bed within the hour, and forget this night ever happened to you.”

“No!” Finn vetoed at the same time Rey snapped; “Poe, I swear if you don’t get back in bed and let them look at you—,"

He sighed and let Rey corral him back onto bed. He could at least say he tried.

The next morning, Poe curled up in the back seat of the Millennium Falcon’s cockpit as Rey started up their launch procedures and Finn plotted a route back to D’Qar. At his side, BB-8 worked on calculations for their jump to light-speed.

“I can help with—,” he started, only to have Rey glare at him in the reflection of the dash.

"You can sit quietly and rest,” she told him. “You’re still healing.” Poe sighed but did as she ordered. He supposed he should sleep, but instead he contemplated. There was something he wanting to do for a very long time, and in light of everything the urge sat heavy on the tip of his tongue.

“I love you,” he declared. Finn’s head came up while Rey froze in front of him. “Both of you,” he continued. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

He supposed he should feel awkward in the ensuing silence, but he didn’t. He felt liberated. Leaning back against the headrest, he closed his eyes and relaxed.

“I...yeah, me, too.”

“Love you, too.”

Both their responses were quiet, Rey’s spoken at the Falcon’s dash and Finn’s unsteady in his delivery since he was unused to saying it aloud. Poe let his smile spread bright and untamed across his face. He wasn't going to be able to sleep with that running through his mind.

Later, he realized the other thing that had been bothering him.

“I hate to ask this now,” he muttered. “But why did Kylo Ren of all people rescue me?”

“We’re not talking about that,” Rey grumbled.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Ahahahahaha, I have so many friends laughing at me right now. If any of them told me a month ago I'd be writing Star Wars fanfiction, I wouldn't have believed them. 
> 
> <3
> 
> I hope you enjoyed - the new trio stole my heart and ran off with it. 
> 
> Many thanks to readwing for betaing.


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